Sharp Shooter
by A Dark Noon
Summary: An AU fic set in the modern world. Eragon is an assassin in his own class, deadly and powerful, but when his latest contractor tricks him, he is brought in by the Varden into a war that is quickly rearing its head into the eyes of influential people. They need his help to end the battles they face, but will he accept? Eventually ExA. Feel free to PM me with any questions you have.
1. The Contract

**Well, I've decided on at least attempting to create an AU Fanfic. However, this will contain some magical twists that definitely wouldn't exist in the modern era. So R&R and enjoy!**

The cold steel of the rifle pressed against his cheek, turning it numb within a few seconds. Boston was certainly cold in mid winter, with no greenery or shrubs whatsoever, just an endless blanket of white and freezing sleet or hail, since it was rarely cold enough to actually blizzard in the US.

The result was cold, cold to the marrow of your bones, at least that's what Eragon felt anyway, he had always been better wired for heat and blazing sunshine, not goddamn Antarctica.

Returning his thoughts to the job set out for him, he continually swung the scope of the Barrett left and right, inside the old cathedral bell tower, looking for the man who needed two bullets to the chest, or even better one to the head. Looking down towards his arm, which was wrapped in at least 5 layers to protect himself against the cold, he pulled back the sleeve and checked his watch again, reassuring himself that he hadn't missed the set time for which his target was most vulnerable.

Or at least he hoped.

Pressing his eye back to the cold glass of the scope, he caught a slight flicker of movement on top of a building around three blocks north of him. He swore under his breath, _damnit!_

Why didn't he catch sight of those two, obviously mercenary snipers that had obviously been hired to protect the target? He cursed again; it was too late to deal with them now, someone would see and raise the alarm and then the money and effort put into this would have been wasted, utterly wasted. Keeping the snipers in his field of vision, he backtracked towards the western mall, where his target was going to be in ten seconds from now.

It seemed the man held an opinion of his own self in high esteem for he walked into the square nearly four minutes after the time he was supposed to walk by. Settling himself down Eragon took a deep breath and started counting the seconds between his heartbeat, _one, one and a half, two. Now aim and..._

He never got to fire, since he was suddenly wrenched from his concentration by the shadows of men, lots of men. This man had his own private army! Sharpshooters, now shadowy bodyguards, what else did he have at his protection disposal? Eragon soon found out as he was suddenly thrown into the railing of the interior of the building he was stationed at. Five gruff, cloaked men were standing in front of him, grinning at each other while one spoke to him, his dazed head desperately trying to refocus on the issue at hand. 'The boss said you would be hiding, trying to take him out while he was enjoying his morning stroll, but took us all morning to find you, searched every damn high-rise in this godforsaken city."

_He had to... regain focus. Needed to reach his... dagger, before he was slashed at... the throat. _Eragon was quickly regaining his bearings and began unobtrusively reaching for his knife, as the leader kept talking

"Now the boss wanted us to bring you to him, but he never said we had to; you've caused us that much trouble to us in the past that I and my friends here are going to make sure you can never fire another bullet."

With that he swung the machete he had unsheathed from his worn leather belt downwards, only to be shockingly blocked by the black cowled figure that was holding his blade, horizontal to his. The machete was stopped, inches before the man's seemingly exposed throat, and he displayed a grin that without a doubt showed he thought he had defeated Eragon.

And then he was on the ground screaming in pain, from a stab wound to his side and a slash that took off three of his fingers. The rest of the group stared, unbelieving that there leader had been struck down with such effortless ease. Then they each drew a scimitar and charged enraged that they had lost one of their own.

Eragon ducked and weaved, diving in between two parallel swords swinging towards him with a grace that defied the eye. It was no secret that he was a sharpshooting master, but what most, if any didn't know was that he was extremely skilled with unarmed combat and knives of all types, however he had never really mastered the sword, at least not yet any. He pulled out both of his machetes and went on the attack, keeping himself situated in front of a wall though, in case he was surrounded.

No single man, on earth could survive a three-pronged, coordinated attack on his own, except for maybe his deceased master. And he had killed him himself. Twisting in mid-air, he allowed both of his feet to land directly on the midriff of the man in front of him, sending him back, over the rail to tumble to his death.

Only three of his attackers remained and all seemed to be fine, when of course the bell tower had to start at that moment. The repercussions of the bell sent Eragon and his adversary's staggering, until the hateful noise ceased. Eragon recovered first and promptly knocked one of the attackers into unconsciousness and then slit his throat. He was about to spin round but was grabbed in a choke hold that was meant to kill, and the man who gripped him knew it. Eragon gasped for air, trying, desperately to find a way to get the man to release him. The second last remaining assailant groaned and rose to his feet, only to be snatched in a choke hold by Eragon's legs. Struggling and choking he tried to get out of the strangle hold, but Eragon's grip just increased and increased. Then, in an incredible display of strength and flexibility he threw the man directly over himself, breaking the neck in the process and effectively tearing his other aggressors grip off of him.

Stumbling to his feet, he desperately tried to suck in some air and remove the dizziness that clouded his mind. He only registered the dagger flashing towards him in a pinwheel of light when it struck his upper arm with a soft thump. He released a short gasp, but nothing more as he slowly stood and faced the man who was charging towards him.

Sluggishly, he sidestepped and avoided the lone assailant but immediately he wheeled round and came at him again, trying to strike a critical blow to the head. Eragon gripped the arm rushing towards his face and spun him into a body lock. Slowly walking him forwards, he said quietly to the man in a strained voice- "Next time... send more of your little... group's members." Concluding his statement he shoved the man, hard, and sent him tumbling down the exterior of the building, landing with a sickening crack on the pavement twenty stories below and didn't move again.

Eragon doggedly shook his head, determined to rid himself of the fog that encased his thoughts and restore his usual razor sharp clarity to the situation. The target, he thought. Randall. Randall was the target and he needed to be eliminated. But Randall obviously knew of his upcoming death and had sent his team of nobody's to try and take care of him. And it nearly worked. Decision made, Eragon scooped up his rifle, and sheathed his two machetes that were strewn across the floor. Walking to the edge, he leaped lithely off and ran swiftly down the rooftops, chasing after Randall.

Looking at Randall sneering his way down the street as if he owned it angered Eragon greatly. He wished to not just kill the man; he wished to kill him _painfully._ But now was not the time, from his vantage point he could see the figures of armed men and women hiding down in the alleyways, ready to sprint to their payer's aid if he required it. Shaking his head Eragon tried to figure out a way he could bring all of Randall's people together so he could use his unique... even he didn't know what it was, just that it was extremely useful in a skirmish. Thinking hard Eragon slowly pieced together a plan that would rid the world of some annoying people and complete his contract.

Taking out a single smoke grenade from his bandolier that was slung across his shoulder, he pulled the pin and hurled it at the ground directly in front of Randall, so that as he stepped forward, the grenade impacted and imploded into a very visible cloud of smoke. As he had wanted, all of Randall's hired army sprang out of the woodwork and ran to their master side in hopes to kill the 'attacker'.

But when the smoke cleared there was no intruder, just Eragon walking purposefully up the now deserted road towards Randall who had turned an impressive shade of bone white. And, without a clear plan or even any attempt at coordination they charged at Eragon. He lifted a hand and the world stopped.

The so called defenders of Randall were frozen, unable to move in the middle of the street, immobilized completely and utterly as if they had been poisoned with Thorack. Not even deeming the necessity to look at the group of fifty fearsome mercenary's that were standing stock still, unable to move. Keeping his attention on Randall, who was sweating and muttering prayers aimlessly now, asked lazily- "Is that the best you've got Randall? I mean, very nice hired army and all, but it just doesn't meet the cut with someone like me." Randall perked up at the light tone of Eragon's voice but shrunk down into a ball when he continued, "You however, have caused me a great deal of trouble. I mean your team of absolute nobody's wasted my time and all it did was hand me a clearer incentive to kill you in cold blood."

Randall whimpered and made to try and run away from Eragon, towards the slums of the city but Eragon tuned to the max, drew his Colt and fired, once, twice, three times into his head and back. Randall fell to his knees gaping silently, blood spurting from one of his major arteries onto the icy tarmac, almost certainly dead.

Without even looking back Eragon rose his hand and using his anger to fuel his mysterious power flung the fifty odd people trapped in his telekinesis like grip into a brick wall, feeling satisfied and massively drained at the energy it had cost him at the fifty necks that snapped simultaneously. Just as he was about to make his escape to his Honda Motorbike, a slug came out of nowhere and slammed into his shoulder, further bruising it and sending a solid, meaty smack to his ears. These snipers were just making him more annoyed every hour.

Slinging his Barrett off of his shoulder, he ducked behind cover, switching into auto-pilot he loaded the gun with only two rounds and removed the scope. There would be no time for aiming properly and this shot would require pure instinct and raw talent; something of which Eragon contained plenty of. Taking a deep breath he took too steps backward, raised the gun and fired twice, smoothly.

Since Eragon's Barrett was silenced the only sound that was heard was the two bullets whistling through the air and a puff of pink mist appearing from the foreheads of the two once sharpshooters. Now it was time to get the hell out of Boston. Starting up the Honda, he revved the engine and shot straight for the interstate.

**Switch POV**

It was Blodhgarm who found the mess, remembered Arya as she surveyed the sheer mess the morning had brought her. He had sprinted in shouting at the top of his lungs to get Ajihad, Hrothgar and Arya together for some bad and strange news. The underworld company, Beor Industry's client, Randall Hearth-Bane was supposed to meet some important figures today, to sell them some top secret information on The Empire, Galbatorix's rapidly expanding and aggressive business giant. It seemed that Randall never made it. "I was waiting for Randall, to arrive, as was my duty. When I heard distinct gun shots being fired in the north-eastern quadrant, I ran there as fast as I could but by the time I made it all I saw was some fading pink mist and a figure in a black cowl riding off on a Honda."

They reached the place and most if not all gasped in horror at the sheer amount of blood and gore piled in the street. Arya drew herself up and took on the form of the cold, blank masked figure they were all used to seeing. Turning to Jarsha she spoke quietly, in an emotionless voice; "Go get Angela, now please." Jarsha hurried off without another word. As she had been speaking, Ajihad had walked slowly towards another corner of the street, before calling out her name; she swiftly strode over to him where he simply gestured towards a bloodstained brick wall. There was literally fifty corpses piled over each other, and they all had broken necks, with grotesque expressions of horror and disbelief written on the faces.

"Impossible." She whispered in disbelief, feeling much like the corpses in expression.

"No." A gruff voice spoke up behind them. "It is possible but extremely rare; I know of only one person alive who would have been able to accomplish this much carnage." She turned towards Brom, the one who had spoken.

"Who could do something like this?" She asked softly.

"One of the world's lesser known assassins but, he is definitely one of the more talented. He goes by the name SharpShooter and is one of the most deadly people on the planet."

"Who's deadly?" Angela had arrived and was ready to get the autopsy of Randall going. After they had managed to carry the body to the room Angela had needed, they were forced to sit outside the room on cold steel benches for three quarters of an hour before Angela announced she was ready, albeit with a strangely grim expression on her face.

As Arya strode in with Brom and Ajihad, Angela fired off a salvo of questions towards Brom who answered them in return.

"You say that the killer is a hired assassin?"

"A relatively unknown one but yes an assassin for hire indeed."

"And would you say that he would use a rifle to kill most of his contractor's targets?"

Brom frowned slightly as he attempted to piece out an answer, "Yes, that would be his weapon of choice that is preferred, but he is extremely skilled with a range of close combat weapons."

"Well as you can see here Randall, was shot three times, one in the head and twice in the back, one of which nicked a primary artery going to the heart. Anyway you said that this SharpShooter likes sniper rifles right?"

"Yes." Agreed Brom hesitantly, unsure where this was going.

"Because if Randall was supposed to have been killed by a sniper, then why do the bullets inside of him belong in a pistol?"

**And Walla! First Chapter done, I apologize if Eragon seems a bit OP in this chapter but he doesn't do it without any effects or anything, when he uses his power on fifty people like that it wears him out extremely quickly and he has to rest for like a week :P. So anyways thanks for reading (If you did -_- ...) And please Review! **


	2. An Assault BackFired

**Well since the first chapter I put up yesterday got a positive response (I hope), I have decided to continue Sharp Shooter and hopefully all of you guys like it!**

Eragon had certainly thought he would prefer Albany to Boston, since it wasn't so cold there. He had driven west from Boston, until his dangerously low energy levels convinced him to stop.

And now he was stuck here.

The mountains north of Albany had suddenly sent a blizzard down and now the roads were stuck under two feet of damn snow! But Eragon knew he wasn't fit for travelling, if only because of when he had reached his rented room, he had not moved for almost 48 hours. And that meant he was over exceeding his limits.

Rubbing his hands together to ward of the bone chilling cold that pervaded his room, Eragon thought back to his latest contractor; it was a man, that much Eragon was sure of. But the rest of his features were obscured by the dark cowl he had worn and any chance of catching sight of his face was lost. But he distinctly remembered that his skin was an unnatural white, like bones that had long bleached in the sun.

Shivering, he cast off his morbid thoughts and thought about Randall, why was he sent to kill Randall? He didn't think Randall held very high stature in anything, but the way he had swaggered up that deserted Boston Street showed he thought he was in control. But that still didn't explain why he was a target for assassination.

_Enough, it does no good to anyone sitting here thinking on the past._

Shaking his head, Eragon slowly stood, groaning as his stiff joints complained with the movement and checked the radio for any news about when the weather would change, and about his recent escapade in Boston.

As he slowly tuned the radio for a channel that broadcast weather, he caught a snatch of conversation in a burst of static. "Horrifying multiple murders... Boston... Killer could be anywhere." Eragon grinned faintly, amused by their desperation to lock down the city and find the killer who still supposedly walked their streets.

"Well, I'm long gone now."

Stretching, he found the correct station and was delighted to hear that the snow should be gone in less than two days. _But first, rest. You never know when you'll get the opportunity again. _

Sighing, he returned to his bed and tried to force himself into a peaceful sleep, undisturbed by nightmares and such.

**Switch POV**

Arya, Brom and Ajihad stared disbelievingly at Angela, who was looking at them with a wry grin on her face.

"What, but, how?"

Ajihad was the first to regain his ability of speech and began questioning Angela. Angela simply grinned even wider and turned her eyes too Arya. She walked over smoothly to the examination table that Randall's corpse was set on. Slipping a pair of latex gloves on, she proceeded to pick up one of the deformed bullets that had previously been in Randall's back.

"I don't understand how this is possible. When the gun is confirmed a sniper, the bullets are actually..." She trailed off thinking, thinking, which is all she seemed to be doing these past two days. Brom took over from her and continued.

"Not only that but what about the half century or so decomposing bodies in Boston's furthest landfill? This had to be Sharp Shooter; no one else would be capable of accomplishing such a feat."

Everyone else present nodded their heads in agreement, still puzzling over Randall's mysterious demise. Arya plastered on a blank expression that she wore most days, and began thinking of plausible ways that this could have occurred. To her surprise, Angela perked up and began speaking quickly.

"Right, so all you three want to find out how something so physically impossible could have occurred. Am I correct?" She got three heads nodding in agreement.

"Well then, why don't you go and find him, bring him in, and question him on these mysterious abilities of his?"

Ajihad and Arya found themselves warming to the idea, of finding out how this impossibility had happened and then bringing in a famed killer. Brom however rejected it immediately.

"No, it's far too dangerous. Do you have any idea how easily he would be able to kill any one of you?"

Arya turned to Brom, raising an eyebrow and giving him a cold, hard glare. Brom however looked straight back at her, unrepentant.

"Yes, even you Arya. Out of any of you here, who has actually seen the Sharp Shooter fight?" No one could answer that since no one had actually even heard of the name Sharp Shooter before he had unpredictably murdered Randall.

"Well, I have and it was a horror and a blessing to see."

"What happened, Brom?" Ajihad cut in, curious about the combat abilities of the assassin and how to possibly combat him and bring him in.

"The American Government sent a team of Navy SEALS after him, tracking his position and preparing themselves to capture or even kill him. They found him, but he already knew about it, somehow and then it was all over, eight fully trained, deadly SEALS on the ground disarmed and dying."

Everyone took a collective gasp at this revelation, stunned by the sheer audacity that the Sharp Shooter displayed in combat. Ajihad raised a hand and made the final decision for everyone.

"Even if he could take down all those SEALS, he wouldn't be any match for any of our most skilled field agents. We'll coordinate his position; follow him and when the time is right, strike."

**Change POV**

(Time-lapse)

Eragon awoke again, surprised by the mammoth sleep he had just accomplished, but feeling rejuvenated and fresh, he knew it was time to move out. Looking out of the frosted glass that was a window, he saw the snow was relatively melted and that it was around three in the afternoon.

_Tonight, I leave. I've spent far too long here, who knows what could be tracking me this time._

He turned back to his belongings, and began to repack all that he needed to, which didn't consist of much considering his grand entrance to the room, which had consisted of throwing his duffel bag on the floor, pulling of his bandolier and just collapsing unceremoniously onto the moth eaten mattress.

Scooping up his Barrett, he began to convert it into something more... manageable to travel with. Pulling off the scope and silencer attachments, he downsized the bulk of the rifle until it fit in his duffel bag with barely any trouble. Next he turned to his close quarter combat equipment that needed stowing away. His Colt.45 went in first, then his pair of sheathed machetes, and finally, his Swiss Army Knife. Cliché, he knew but it was actually extremely useful, besides sticking the pointy end into someone you don't like.

With his packing done, Eragon had no choice but to wait it out until night cast its shadow over Albany. Sitting himself on the closest armchair he prepared himself to sit out a boring few hours of staring into the distance.

**Switch POV**

"The only place I can see him being at is Albany."

Arya whipped round and looked at Brom with an intense expression in her gaze. "Are you sure that's where he is currently situated? He's had almost a week since Boston; wouldn't you think that he would have moved quite a distance?"

Brom shook his head. "Remember the amount of bodies that were left at the scene? He expended a lot of energy doing that and he wouldn't have travelled far, since he would have urgently needed to rest."

"How do you know things like his energy levels, and how tired he would be? Do you know something we don't?" This came from Ajihad who had looked up during the brief conversation that had formed between Arya and Brom.

Brom sighed and appeared reluctant about sharing his knowledge before relenting and taking a long, deep breath. "Sharp Shooter is in a class of his own by his own right, but he has an extremely rare, unique gift. Something like telekinesis, he can wave a hand and send someone flying, or groups of people, but, fifty seems to be a new record. His, gift is growing stronger."

Everyone stood shell shocked at this revelation and everyone, save Arya who kept her indifferent mask ironed on, while internally her thoughts were swirling in confusion. _Telekinesis, what's next now? Superman? _She was shaken out of her thoughts by Ajihad who clarified what was happening.

"We get him tonight. Arya are you going to go meet him with one of our teams?"

Arya quickly decided that she wanted to meet this mysterious assassin that had apparently effortlessly killed fifty plus men and not received injury. So she agreed, "Of course."

Ajihad continued, pleased with her quick decision and answer; "Excellent, now travel to Albany, and get in your positions, when we give the signal converge on him and you'll hopefully catch him by surprise."

Arya nodded and turned to go, they had a distance to travel to Albany and not much time to prepare. Arya always followed her gut feelings and her gut feeling right now was that Sharp Shooter would be gone, if he was even there, from Albany by nightfall.

**Switch POV **

It was close to night, when the evening was just beginning. Orange and purple hues of light sprayed vibrantly across the darkening skies, and the world felt colourful and alive. But Eragon felt that there was something wrong, just an instinct that could only be described as self-preservation telling him something was amiss.

Ignoring it for the time being, Eragon checked his small radio again, making sure that all was clear and good for the journey ahead. Travelling to San Francisco would take some time as it was on the other side of the U.S continent. Aimlessly sifting through channels, he picked up on one that sounded military. Voices crackled through it, making Eragon jump and tense.

"_Team 1, in position outside Sharp Shooters door, over. Team 2, what's your status? _

_"Team 2, standing by if you need any assistance, over."_

"_Standby, we are entering Sharp Shooters room now..."_

His first thought was that his name was on the radio; his second was that there were people outside his door. And the last was that this wasn't going to be good. The door flew open off its hinges as Eragon dove backward over the bed towards where he had his bandolier fully equipped and ready.

If there was a world record for putting on a bandolier in the quickest time possible, he would have broken it for sure. Six armed men and women charged through the busted door, all waving knives and SIG's and other such things at his face. Cursing, he tried to manoeuvre himself around the first wave of attacks and into the corridor; he wanted to be able to fight them one at a time, not six all at once.

His assailants were extremely skilled though and they managed to prevent him from getting to where he wanted. So he had to compromise, but out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of a woman just standing there, watching him battle off his opponents without pause. Retracting his run away thoughts he focused on the matter at hand, how to get away from these people.

Musing silently got him through nothing as a stray knife zipped towards his face. Ducking he leaped backward and gestured at the bed. It flew forward pinning two of the unknown attackers against a wall. Drawing his Colt from its holster he fired with point- blank precision, into the chests of three more, gasping as they each got hit in the chest.

And then, the woman who had been observing joined in the attacking while shouting into the radio, "Back up, we need back up!"

**Switch POV **

Arya saw the bed fly into two of her team, and then the precision accuracy with which the Sharp Shooter fired his Colt, bringing down three more. The remaining man standing stood stock-still shocked at what he had just witnessed, knowing he wouldn't survive another ten seconds she jumped head on into the fight shouting into her radio; "Back up! We need back-up!"

She heard the man growl in annoyance as she threw her knife at him, only to be blocked by his machetes, which were drawn and deflecting both her and her team mate's blows easily. She gritted her teeth and attacked with her full skill determined to take down this assassin.

And then she couldn't move, pinned by his telekinesis power and then slammed back against a wall. She couldn't even blink as he strode towards her, power coiling in his every stride. Looking her in the eye he spoke with a deep baritone voice which only reflected the power he contained.

"Why, why did you attack me when I have done no wrong to you?"

She found she could reply, as if his grip had loosened on her a bit; "You are going to come with us, back to our hideout."

The man just smirked, "I don't think so lady, no one, and I mean no one tells me where and when I can go anywhere."

"On your knees, now!" Team 2 had finally arrived Arya sighed, in relief, but Sharp Shooter didn't miss a beat. Turning away from her he flicked his hands in the doorways general direction and next thing she knew she was sailing through the air, turned into a flying human bowling pin alongside her last remaining partner.

There was a muffled thump as she struck two of Team 2's occupants and knocked them flat. Rising immediately she twisted and watched Sharp Shooter dive forward and smash through his window, where he could be seen sprinting across a number of rooftops.

Jumping through the broken door, she used all of her speed to sprint down the stairs and out into the street. Sprinting along she saw the man jumping onto a Honda Motorbike and starting it up. Cursing she ran back the other too her vehicle.

**Change POV**

Eragon whizzed off on his Honda, knowing he was likely going to be tailed all the way to Texas; he needed something to throw them off. But what? An idea slowly took shape and while it was reckless, it would likely throw off his pursuers. So he slowed down, but only enough for the oncoming entourage to just keep him in their line of sight.

He had assumed that the people chasing wouldn't attempt to fire at him, but he was proven wrong. Bullets whizzed around his ears and slammed into the back fender, sending sparks up and denting it. Risking his view of the road in front of him for a few precious seconds he twisted round and caught glimpse of a sidecar speeding along, with someone holding something that looked eerily like a...

The man in the side car loaded his lock-on RPG and fired simultaneously in one smooth movement. _Well, shit. _The rocket came at the speed of sound, closing in by the second on his back wheel. Desperately looking for an escape route he caught site of a narrow, twisting side-alley, which was almost directly next to him. Deciding on it, he swerved violently to the left and raced down the dank alley, the RPG missile was unable to bank fast enough and blew the wall into a dozen pieces beside the alley.

_Have I lost them?_ His unspoken question was answered half a second later when two motorbikes like his came roaring down the alley behind him. Revving the engine, he shot off, closely tailed by the same woman from before and another face that was most likely from the other team.

The alley finished at the corner of the interstate that continued towards Canada, but Eragon took the southern route, back through Albany. Looking behind, he flicked a hand in the direction of one of his pursuers and the telepathic blow connected. Wrenched off the bike, the man sailed into a glass window, which set off about half a dozen alarms ringing throughout the main road they were on.

Looking back one more time, he groaned as he saw the same lady as before, still tailing him with a determined look on her face. _Does she ever give up?_ Sliding to a stop he watched as the woman got off her bike and began walking towards him, knife in hand. Sighing, he used his power on her for the second time that day, raising her up and slamming her against a wall.

**Switch POV**

She was stuck, damn her and her useless pride. He had her pinned, against a wall, for the second time that day. He was right as well. She and the Varden, had no reason to go attacking him like this, but they needed him.

"Why are you attacking me?" That voice sounded so... familiar but different, wild somehow. It then struck her that she hadn't replied to his question and was staring intensely at the cowled figure. Attempting to cover the faint blush rising on her cheeks she replied quickly.

"My... boss of sorts wants to talk to you." To her surprise he chuckled softly, sounding extremely bemused.

"Well if he wanted to talk to me, why didn't you just ask instead of blasting my door down and damaging my ride?"

Blushing even more noticeably, she took a moment to collect her thoughts and feelings before replying quietly; "I was curious." Sharp Shooter raised an eyebrow in a silent question so she elaborated.

"I had heard rumours about your combat prowess, and I wanted to see it for myself, and if we could match it." Another chuckle.

"Well, what do you think of my, as you called it, combat prowess?"

"Well I can't exactly insult you can I since you have me pinned against the wall with your telekinesis power." The man grinned widely from under the cowl and for a moment Arya caught sight of white teeth flashing in the dusk.

"So you want me to go speak with this boss of yours?" Sharp Shooter enquired, with a hint of a smirk. Arya simply nodded in response.

"Well, let's go then." He released her then and she experienced a strange feeling, as if she had won and lost at the same time. Shrugging she followed the assassin back to the bikes and began the short drive back to the hotel Eragon was staying at.

**And another chapter bites the dust! I had most of the reviewers request another chapter so I did so, sorry if there wasn't much action in this chapter but its building on the plot.**

**Replying to... Elemental Dragon Slayer: Yeh I stuffed up the summary quite a Bit :P, and yes Eragon does possess telekinesis powers, but they impose an energy limit on him so he isn't invincible or anything.**

**Replying to... themythick: Thanks for your observations and no this story is not a one-shot, I will continue writing it until it's done!**

**Replying to... Vizual-Era: Thanks!**

**Replying to... : DamnHigh: Thanks for reviewing! And yes I am biased to with an OP Eragon, it amuses me to see him kicking ass and all that :D! **


	3. An Entrance To Remember

**I hope I can keep this up, but since its holidays here I have plenty of time to write and I thought I would be nice and post another chapter for you all! Also I'm going to try and limit the changes of perspective, as I know from experience that they can get quite annoying.**

Arya watched Sharp Shooter pack up his stuff that was littered around the destroyed room and splintered door. She had sent her team downstairs to get ready for departure and reminded them that Eragon was coming of his own free will and such was not to be treated as a prisoner.

Shaking herself from her thoughts she watched curiously as the man repacked his things, checking one final time before looking at her slyly.

"We don't know each other's names." It was a statement not a question so Arya didn't feel the need to reply to it. Sharp Shooter however persisted, continuing his line of thought towards Arya.

"So, are you going to tell me your name or are you going to remain as Stubborn-Lady forevermore?" Arya couldn't help but smile slightly at this. Killer or not, this man had a child's sense of humour.

She decided to answer; "Of course not Sharp Shooter, I am Arya, and you are?"

She watched with interest as he seemed to deflate a bit, before replying in a soured voice, "Who wants to know? I've always been 'killer' or 'Sharp Shooter' to everyone, who wants to know a merciless killers real name?" Arya looked on surprised at this outburst, but she felt sorry for the man, who had obviously no real friends in life.

"Well I would like to know the man's name who singularly took down 50 skilled mercenary's without injury." She was careful to avoid saying 'killed' in her sentence as she knew this would only dampen the man more.

Sighing he spoke; "Very well, my name is Eragon." Arya's eyes widened in surprise. Eragon was an Old Norse name which meant gifted or even on some occasions could be interpreted as: 'The Chosen One'. However she did not mention this as she was quite sure that Eragon already knew of his names heritage.

Silently, he packed the rest of his bag before turning back to Arya. "Could I please have some privacy?"

Arya responded with confusion; "Why?"

Smirking, Eragon replied, "Well, changing does require privacy, unless you want me to travel to..." Seemingly puzzled he turned back to Arya. "Where are we going anyway? You haven't told me yet."

Arya quickly replied in an embarrassed tone as if she had just realized what Eragon was emphasizing. "Ajihad has moved from Boston to Oklahoma City so we need to travel there."

Eragon continued, either not noticing her blush, or choosing not to comment on it; "As I was saying, do you really want me to travel all the way to Oklahoma during winter, in an undershirt and thongs?" Shaking her head in amusement she walked out and shut the door behind her.

When she had deemed enough time had passed for someone to change into a different outfit she knocked on the door. She heard a muffled call, so she turned the handle and strode back into the room.

She was stopped by the sight of Eragon's very bare, muscled and tanned chest as he rooted around for a shirt in his duffel bag. Looking up he caught her staring and smirked. Struggling to maintain her sense of control she turned away until she was sure he was completely covered and then fixed him with a cold blank stare.

Eragon however, saw right through the ruse and simply grinned at her. Arya rolled her eyes in exasperation; she could see this becoming regularity in the near future.

Arya thought about what had happened less than a half hour before, when she and Eragon had pulled up on their motor bikes where the battered and bruised Varden Elite Teams were nursing their wounds. _The men and women struggled to their feet and made a clumsy attempt to surround Sharp Shooter, who she now knew as Eragon. However, Eragon made no sign of being scared, simply gesturing towards their weapons._

_The teams stared in shock as their weapons were wrenched out of hand and discarded, useless in the face of Sharp Shooters telekinetic powers. Raising his hands in a simplified measure of piece he spoke; "I mean you no harm, quite the contrary actually, since I agreed to..." He paused then and glanced back at her._

"_This is your leader, am I correct?" Arya fixed him with a blank stare then nodded._

_"That would be correct, yes." Eragon nodded and continued._

_"Well then, I agreed to your leader here that I would, willingly, come and speak with your boss." None missed the emphasis on 'willingly'. There was a clatter of movement as the teams went to retrieve their weapons. Eragon turned to her, and spoke in a calm, measured voice that allayed her suspicions somewhat._

_"I am going to pack my bag," his voice took on a teasing tone that made her slightly blush; "since someone came along and blew the door down." Nodding she proceeded to follow him up the staircase and through the vacant door. Eragon turned and saw her standing there, noticing that she wanted to say something._

"_Why?" she said, "why are you coming with us to meet Ajihad, when you could have so easily killed us all and ran?" Eragon sighed heavily before thinking hard about his answer. _

"_I was curious, about this 'Varden' and about Ajihad." She looked at him, hoping for some type of elaboration in his sentence. Looking exasperated he did so; "It's not every day a group of 13 come and try and kill me while saying their boss wants to speak with me." Arya blushed and tried to manoeuvre her way out of the situation. _

"_Well, it's not every day someone comes to Boston and annihilates dozens of armed men." Eragon shook his head, taking the attempt to get out of dangerous waters with grace. "Well, I need to pack."_

Walking down the stairs she found that Eragon was moving in the opposite direction; towards the shattered window. Looking at him, he must have sensed her gaze on him and turned, grinning. Raising an eyebrow she continued walking down the stairs as she heard an elated whoop come from the fourth floor.

Making it to the departure zone, she watched as Eragon sailed through the air and came to rest with his feet on the sidewalk. "Voila!" he exclaimed happily. Arya couldn't help but crack a smile in amusement at his antics.

"Eragon, we must go." Eragon sobered up immediately, obviously thinking about what could possibly happen once they reached the Varden.

"Alright then," he spoke "let's roll."

**Switch POV**

Eragon felt at peace, for once. He had always loved the sensation of going speeds of + 100 MPH, when the wind streamed against your face. He rode without a visor, preferring the clarity of his current vision, and he had always hated tinted glass, yet he didn't know why. But he did. His mind flashed back to so long ago when his memories were fogged and clouded with an ever present mist that couldn't be shaken from its grip on his thoughts. _The car pulled up outside the house, tinted windows glistening in the pale, weak sunlight. Two men in impressive suits strode up and knocked loudly on the door, with the brass door knocker that dad had placed mere days ago._

_When his mother opened the door, her eyes went wide with surprise as the two men flung her out of the way, leaving her concussed on the steps that connected with a busy sidewalk. No one stopped though; no one had batted an eyelid. He could hear the men trampling up the varnished stairs to the second floor, his father arguing fiercely with them. _

_Abruptly, the door slammed back onto its hinges and the two men walked swiftly towards him and lifted him up by the hem of his shirt. They proceeded to drag him out the front door, he was screaming, crying out for his mother, his dad, but they did nothing. Only his father watching blankly as his mother lay unconscious on the steps of his home._

_He was thrown into the car, where the door slammed shut. He sobbed quietly; "I want my parents." A harsh voice broke the silence that had gathered in the car._

_"Where you're going boy, you don't need parents."_

He woke up with a hoarse shout to find someone standing over him, looming. Reacting quickly, he slammed his hand into the man and swept his foot behind him, knocking him over. Immediately, four other pairs of hands groped for him, reaching towards his outstretched limbs. Fighting them off, he heard a voice through the strangled air, calling him.

"Eragon, What are you doing?" Looking towards the voice angrily, he replied, seething.

"It's not what I'm doing, it's what _they _are doing," he spit out, voice trembling in rage. The voice, which he know recognised as Arya spoke again.

"That does not explain why everyone in this building has been woken up!"

Eragon looked at Arya with an expression akin to pure annoyance and exasperation. She continued with a determined tone underlying her voice.

"If you can't even sleep with other people near you I suggest that you go and find yourself another hotel. Everyone here has been woken by your pitiful dreams, and they do not deserve the trouble!"

Eragon whipped around to face Arya; he wanted to kill someone, badly. He began to speak, venom dripping off his words; "You go too far lady! You come in here; treat me like some kind of snivelling whelp, when you do not know the first thing about me! So don't treat me like you own me otherwise I shall leave and there will not be the first thing you can do to stop me!"

His voice had risen to a shout at the end, and everyone stood still in shock. Casting a venomous look about him one last time he stormed out, slamming the door behind him. What he didn't notice in his fury was that Arya had looked repressed and slightly guilty.

**Change POV**

Arya sighed heavily, she shouldn't have lost her temper like that and Eragon was right; she didn't know anything about him, and didn't have the right to treat him that way. She needed to find him, and apologize for her rash, un-thought behaviour.

Walking outside, she saw him sitting on a nearby roof, legs swinging idly. She found that she couldn't get up without a ladder and settled for compromise. Jogging to where the two buildings ended and an alley was formed; Arya leaped up, grasped at a handhold and when she secured it, began climbing. Once she got high enough, she pulled her legs up and placed her feet against the rough brick that made up the building she was climbing on.

Pushing off the wall, Arya caught glimpse of the world spinning as she executed a back flip onto the roof upon which Eragon sat. Walking quietly towards him, her piercing gaze caught upon his figure in a rare burst of moonlight, which seemed to make his outline all the more mysterious.

His shoulders appeared slumped, as if all his anger had been drained out of him leaving only sadness and a tinge of regret. He sat upon a steel bar that hung out over the building, facing a twenty foot drop below him onto the cold road that was currently icing over.

Approaching him, she caught a snatch of his eyes, which appeared emotionless, but Arya knew that it was all a facade. Faolin had been exactly like this when his mother had died, putting up a steel wall between himself and his devastating emotions. She thought that she had made no sound whatsoever, but Eragon appeared too had sensed her approach.

Silently questioning asking him, he nodded his permission and she proceeded to join him on his cold, lifeless bar. Waiting for him to speak, she settled down and prepared to sit it out. Studying him closely she noted that his face was like steel, impenetrable if she tried to get under the surface.

They sat in silence for half an hour before he decided to speak. "Do you still have your parents?"

She looked at him quickly startled by his sudden question; "Yes, I do, what about you?"

She saw his face constrict and harden, as if he was facing some monstrous beast. In a way, he was realised Arya, he had never needed another shoulder to lean on his entire existence. Life had been extremely hard on Eragon, but it had rewarded his persistence handsomely. She continued to watch as he tried to force the words out of his mouth, struggling to conquer his independence and reach out for a helping hand.

Finally he spoke; "When I was four, strangers came to my house. They concussed my mother, who suffered from a stroke because of it, or so I was told." He laughed bitterly, uncaring at that moment, just continued speaking.

"They took me, dragged me out of my house, knocking my father aside and throwing me in a car." She looked on in absolute astonishment as tears pricked at his eyes, but he forced them down. "I can't even remember their _faces _anymore, let alone their names, I've been parentless all my life as far as I'm concerned."

Arya let this wash over her, wishing she could comfort him somehow; losing his parents at such a young age would have broken her, she didn't know how Eragon had coped with it.

"Don't." He said in a voice that was barely above a whisper. She raised an eyebrow at his antics, wondering what she had done.

"Don't feel sorry for me and my burdens, they are mine to bear alone. With all the lives I have taken, I suppose I deserve some form of punishment." He sighed, with all the countenance of a condemned man; "I guess this is just Fate's way of providing it."

Arya shook her head violently; annoyed that Eragon would think that of himself and desperation for someone to even feel so low about themself, "Eragon, you may have murdered people heartlessly, but you have a good heart."

He snorted in sardonic amusement, the silvery moonlight splaying across his face brightening the action. "And what would you mean by that Arya? I have killed potentially thousands, how does that give me a good heart?" Shaking his head still he resumed staring at the ground, indifference filling his shadowed figure.

"You have a pure heart, because even though you have murdered hundreds, you did it for good intentions. Most, if not all the people who were targeted for you were bad and deserved to die, and in doing so, you provided the people that they were tormenting with release. You are a good man Eragon and don't forget it."

Eragon nodded in thanks, seemingly genuinely grateful for her support. They sat on top of the roof, until Arya bade him good night and left.

**Change POV**

Looking out towards the dawn gave him a refreshed and rejuvenated feeling, even though he had had no sleep since his nightmares had torn their regular route through his sleeping consciousness, however he was feeling slightly disgusted with himself.

He had confided in Arya. He had never needed help from anyone. Why now? He had shown weakness, both to himself and to others. He was disgusted.

Rising from his position, he stretched, groaning as his taught calf muscles were stretched and pulled from the position they had assumed for hours. Casting a glance at the street below him, he caught sight of Arya and the Varden teams preparing for the final leg to Oklahoma City.

Gauging the distance between his position on the crown of the building, and the pavement below, he prepared himself to access his telekinesis ability.

And he jumped. Whooping with the sheer exhilaration that comes with adventure, he aimed his power at the ground, which reverberated it back to him, slowing his decent. He landed with a soft thump, causing Arya and the other to spin round, looking at him standing there grinning at them.

Arya shook her head ruefully, considering all the possibilities of what might have gone wrong. Knowing she was preparing to scold him he cut her off before she could say a thing; "Don't. I know what you're about to say. I considered all of that and had faith in myself."

Nodding slowly, Arya seemed embarrassed, knowing she had no right to question his motives for doing the jump. After all, he had shouted that fact at her the very previous night. And she knew it.

Oklahoma City was a smaller city, since it was smack, bang in the middle of tornado alley and had in fact been destroyed by tornadoes in the past. It was mostly built out of wood, steel and concrete, to provide greater strength and support for the tall high rises that dominated the central part of the wintry city.

Looking back from admiring the fantastic view that obscured the better part of the sullen grey skies, Eragon turned to Arya, who had remained like a stone, for the rest of the trip. Cold, emotionless and for the better part, uncaring, he had tried multiple, numerous times to snap her out of it, but she ignored all his efforts as if he was the ground upon which she trod on.

Entering the city on his Honda, Eragon contemplated the last time he was here. He had actually lived there, for maybe, 9 months, receiving his contracts from a trusted friend. But then he had been discovered, and his home razed and burnt to the ground. He gritted his teeth in anger at the culprits; _damn SEALS..._

Forgetting his memories for the time being, Eragon took in his surroundings as they zeroed in towards a normal underground parking lot. He tried to discern how the solid concrete and steel frame could harbour a base for the Varden to hide out at. After maybe five minutes of searching he couldn't see anything until the team stopped at a group of free parks. Switching off the motor, he allowed the engine to tick down for a minute or so before swinging himself off and picking up his duffel bag.

They walked over to what Eragon thought was a normal elevator, and they all crowded inside. Arya bit her lip, searching for something on the button pane, which was surrounded by wood panelling and marble. Finding what she was looking for she pressed the lowest button that she could find and a seamless square digit-pad slid out of the wall.

Eragon stood there and raised an eyebrow at the secret digit box, which was hidden in the wall. Clever really, but he couldn't help but sport the acquisition that something was happening behind his back. Team members nodding their heads at each other, giving discreet nods and signals, something was up.

The elevator pinged, signalling its halt at the lowest level that it could reach. And that's when they struck. Drawing their blades and guns, attempting to subdue him, he tried to compose a straight thought, managing to keep his body calm, but an overwhelming anger was coursing through his blood stream, sending a monstrous strength alight within him. His one two last lucid thoughts before he gave to his fury was that Arya had not attempted to attack him, for that matter she was staring shocked at the proceedings and that he was about to lose his cool in front of the Varden and that was going to be regretted.

His thoughts were rapidly filling with a clouded fog of anger and ferocity that he couldn't suppress. Releasing his pent up anger with a bellow he swung his hand and effectively pinned an entire team by their throats against the wall of the elevator. How dare they assume that they can just betray him behind his back that they even thought that they had the ability and skill to stand up to him? The doors slid open, revealing another team waiting directly outside the brightly lit room, with their weapons drawn and raised.

Slamming his power into them like a wall of hardened air, they were flung backward like skittles, bouncing and reeling with the shock and force of the attack thrown upon them. Continuing his enraged attack, Eragon let his anger fuel the telekinesis and barely felt the energy loss as he fought off waves after waves of the Varden elites, as they came charging in through unseen corridors and stairwells.

He fought the waves of soldiers, barely tiring, until he had driven through them, leaving unconscious bodies littering the entrance hall. A small whooshing sound came to his heightened senses then, as well as the small prick that stung his neck. Whirling around, he saw a man with a grey beard and hair, with a fierce expression ironed onto his bushy eyebrows and lined, wrinkled face.

A dart gun was in his hand, the bullet of which was in Eragon's neck right now. The face and stance were familiar, except the last time he had seen him...

Where? Where had we seen this man before? A name swam up through his most distant memories and placed itself next to the man standing in front of him.

_Brom. _Except last time he had been wielding a Heckler and Koch HK MP5, and wearing a U.S Navy SEALS uniform. With his realization, the sluggishness from the dart was driven away by a new wave of resentment, at least for a few minutes.

"You. You were there at my home, you burned it down, and you tried to kill me!" Releasing his hold on the unconscious Varden members, he brought the full force of his power, and anger to bear. Aiming at Brom, he released a bellow before he relinquished his control on the wrath of his ability.

Brom tried to duck, dive or weave away, anything to escape from the blow that was coming, but to no avail. Brom was blasted, full force with the wave of telekinetic energy that had powered out from Eragon's palms into the smooth, featureless marble wall behind him, cracking and denting it. Sliding down it he was knocked out cold from the strength of the strike.

But now, the dart was taking its toll on Eragon, slumping to the side, and breathing heavily in short, hard gasps. He could feel his energy ebbing away and he was falling into unconsciousness rapidly. His last thoughts before he fell from his grip in the conscious plane were; "_I over exerted myself, I'm dying, but... but..." _And he thought no more.

**Change POV**

Angela, Ajihad and surprisingly, Saphira hurried down the corridor, surveying the carnage of Eragon's enraged assault before speaking to her; "What in the gods happened?"

She had prepared herself for a speech about how they got here but was not expecting, well... this. She launched herself into a recount of the past few days, skipping over when Eragon had yelled at her in the hotel room and the morning afterwards when she had tried to behave exactly like a cold, unyielding rock. When she reached the present she concluded by saying,

"And he collapsed right there, less than a minute before you arrived."

Ajihad was calmly looking at the motionless bodies that filled the room and spoke softly to Arya; "We have five full teams lying unconscious here, which is 30 skilled men and women, taken down like a gust of wind.

Arya shook her head. "Not that easily, Eragon said something to me about an energy limit that was imposed on him every time he used his power. He only used his power here so he would have at the very least, been left gasping for breath on his hands and knees."

Ajihad still appeared unconvinced and troubled but didn't question her further. Instead he turned to Saphira and asked her to bring another two teams to help get the bodies back to the infirmary for Angela, who was already busy walking around, clucking disapprovingly when she saw the battered condition of the men. Then, he asked Arya to get a wheeler to bring Eragon to a special medical room.

When he was asked why, he simply answered; "It was our men who attacked him in our base, after our men were sent to bring him back here. It's the least we can do to help him right now."

After wheeling Eragon to the medical room that he was given, she was surprised to find Angela there, waiting for Eragon to arrive in her care. After being shooed off, she sighed and went to her room, the only thing she could do now that would help is wait and not be in the way.

Collapsing into her bed with a sigh, she tried to find the inner tranquillity that she had found lay within herself, but tonight it evaded her. She couldn't rid her mind of the images that occurred when her team, her trusted team had turned and attacked Eragon as they were walking in.

She knew part of the reason why she thought, as she had felt the same thing when she was unable to capture Eragon.

They had felt failure, shame at being unable to accomplish the task that had been set out for them: Capture the Sharp Shooter. So they had conducted one last desperate attempt to bring him in, in manacles. She supposed it had worked, but only half way.

They had not counted on Eragon's cat-like reflexes and his increased strength that came from the anger of being betrayed. Once she had trawled through all of this, she felt much better and found she was able to access her inner peace and enter a trance like state that was akin to sleep, except that it allowed the user to be much, much more aware of their surroundings then a normal sleeper would be.

Sighing once more, she fell into her trance state and remained undisturbed for the rest of the evening.

**Change POV**

Eragon woke slowly, groggy and clumsy after his over exertion and near death experience. He attuned his senses, one by one; hearing, touch and smell, before he opened his eyes, to enable him the best possible reaction if there was danger present.

All he found when he opened his eyes was a blinding white room. His eyes watered up, unaccustomed to the light level after his eyes had adjusted for so long in the darkness. Slowly, he opened his eyes once more and let them slowly adjust to the light levels of this room he was in.

He was in a bed, swathed by crisp, white sheets, and he had been changed into more comfortable clothes for bed wear. The room was painted white and had a neon glow to it, he was sure that there was a hidden light source somewhere, attributing to the brightness that filled the room.

Medical equipment lined the walls, shelves with many different sizes of stethoscopes, needles and other doctor equipment, trays with surgical knives and a fridge that Eragon thought must store blood.

A door opened somewhere and a woman of medium stature and height trotted in, looking bright and untroubled. She turned, saw him looking at her and exclaimed in a half annoyed, half excited voice.

"Well it's about damn time you woke up, you've had everyone here worried sick. Ajihad wants to see you, but never mind that, what were you thinking?" He looked at her incredulously, wondering who the hell she thought she was. Another, more petite voice answered his unvoiced question.

"She is the head medical doctor, don't mind her, Ajihad has given her free rein, since he finds her antics amusing, and well, so do I. To an extent at least. I'm Saphira, since that's what you're wondering at this current moment in time."

He just looked at her open mouthed; it was almost like she could read his...

"Mind?" He just nodded, his confused thoughts refusing to present him with an eligible sentence to speak with. "Yes, I can read minds. Yours is very interesting by the way. Lots of dark memories though."

He finally remembered how to use the alphabet and spoke. "I mean no offence but would you kindly get the hell out of my head?" She grinned widely and nodded.

Eragon, despite his misgivings about this place, was liking this girl. She seemed genuine and truthful, not like any snake tongues he knew from his career of being an assassin. He decided to press the conversation that had sprung up with her, while the woman who had originally came into the room, checked his pulse, blood pressure and all the essentials.

"Where am I? Why was I brought in here? I was attacked, betrayed... and... Brom!" Saphira took an involuntary step back as Eragon's voice turned bitter with resentment and anger at the man he had seen yesterday.

"Okay, okay, first of all, calm down! You are in Oklahoma City, and you were brought in here because you almost killed yourself." He glared at her, annoyed.

"I know I'm in Oklahoma City, I was in Oklahoma City, I remember going down an elevator then being ambushed, and then so many bodies and Brom." Saphira raised her eyebrows and turned to the woman who was still fussing over the paleness of his skin.

"Well Angela, at least your theory of him retaining amnesia was proven bogus." Angela bobbed her head up and down, obviously pleased by something that he couldn't grasp for the moment.

"Okay Sharp Shooter, I think you are as fit as a fiddle and are ready to face your introduction to Ajihad. Eragon nodded, it was past time that he met this man who wanted to first capture him, and then supposedly wanted talked to him. Standing, he looked towards Saphira and Angela, who were both watching him with unreadable expressions on their faces.

He guessed that Saphira was most likely speaking to Angela with her mind, since she could reach out to others minds. Deciding to play with his trump card he spoke smoothly, employing his best honey voice to the situation.

"Saphira if you would stop speaking to Angela mentally, I am currently ready to leave and have been so for nearly five minutes now."

As he had suspected would happen, Saphira blushed and looked quickly away from Angela, who did nothing but gaze coolly back at him.

Saphira escorted him down a number of marble corridors that were inlaid with gold out linings and plating. A big, big display of wealth Eragon thought, but he didn't allow any of this to affect him. He shut down all of his emotions, and locked them behind a steel wall for the current time being, most likely until he got back from meeting this Ajihad.

They finally stopped at a huge double door that was inlaid with silver-oak and gold. The door handles featured a brass knocker that could be pushed back onto the wood. However, he wasn't quite sure if the design allowed a door chime to be place on the other side, so when the door handle was used, the chime was activated.

Saphira looked at him side-ways and spoke up; "Ladies first."

Looking at her, he was unable to keep the smirk from his face, "Just don't bother Saphira, just don't bother." Turning back to the door, he breathed in deep and reached towards the door handle, ready to meet the man named Ajihad.

**I apologize if the chapter took longer than expected but, as a reward for your patience I lengthened this one quite a lot! :D **

**Replying to... Elemental Dragon Slayer: Yeh, Arya just doesn't stand a chance against Eragon, at least, not yet...**

**Replying to... Krokodyl: I guess you could look at it like he had a spider sense...**

**Replying to... Vizual-Era: Yeh, he seems like that, but in this chapter he has quite a few mood swings doesn't he? :P**

**Replying to... AuroraStarDancer: Well thanks for Reviewing!**

**And to all those who have read the story, a review is always extremely appreciated (except flames of course) and when someone does review your story it gives you a really, really awesome feeling! I assure you I am NOT begging for reviews (everybody gives sceptical look side-ways) it's just that I love any input into the story!**


	4. Ajihad

**I've taken into account all of you guys reviews of this story and most of the criticism is directed at the lack of detail I put at times into the story, so I will try and pick up on that. Also, this chapter came a little late because my computer kept shutting down unexplainably and deleting my unsaved work... ****, otherwise, R&R...**

_Saphira looked at him side-ways and spoke up; "Ladies first." _

_Looking at her, he was unable to keep the smirk from his face, "Just don't bother Saphira, just don't bother." Turning back to the door, he breathed in deep and reached towards the door handle, ready to meet the man named Ajihad._

Eragon gripped the ornately carved door handles and turned them, feeling the hinges allow the doors to swing open in a smooth pendulum motion. Beyond the door, another small corridor made of mottled stone stretched to a cavernous room that reached out for the heavens it was so high.

Slowly, he stood still and allowed his eyes to wonder the place. The room was made of marble, yet again. _The Varden love their marble. _The room was roughly contorted and had a feel of ancestry running throughout it. Eragon suspected that this room was many hundreds, if not thousands of years old. The ceiling was barely visible, a fact Eragon thought to had been done on purpose, another display of power.

The floor was made, surprisingly of sandstone, a thing not commonly seen in the United States, since only some areas actually had desert. The room stretched backwards to a large desk that was made of oak, with silver strips along the sides. The desk was surrounded by shelves, and bookcases that harboured what must have been thousands of books, that ranged from topics like poetry to myths and legends.

A dark skinned man sat behind the desk, wearing a black and blue dinner suit, he was buff and had a big stature, standing at around 6 foot, 5 inches and had almost no excess body fat. The man had a large, hooked nose and dark brown, almost black eyes that were filled with intelligence and knowledge. He was bald, and sported a goatee that came halfway down his strong chin

This Eragon guessed was Ajihad, the leader of the Varden, and the man who had tried to capture him, for a still unknown reason. Arya had told him that she did not know why Ajihad had ordered his capture, but she was reasonably sure that it was for a good reason. He knew Ajihad had heard him enter but he was kept waiting by the dark-skinned leader.

Finally, after coughing twice to announce his presence did Ajihad look up.

"Ah Sharp Shooter, it is a pleasure to finally meet you." Eragon nodded his head indicating for Ajihad to continue speaking.

"I apologise for the methods we used of getting you in here, but I, we," he gestured to a row of seats upon which, five people sat. Arya, who looked like she had been woken up, Saphira who was grinning at him, and three others.

Ajihad noticed his studious glance at the group that were occupying the bench seat to his right, and sighed. "I suppose I discarded the necessary introductions that are required of the situation. I'm sure you know Arya and Saphira, the other three are Jormundur, Sabrae and Fundor. They are a part of the Council of Elders, who advise and assist me in my efforts of leading the Varden. The other Elders however, are not able to be here at this point in time."

The elders appeared quite polite and supportive of Ajihad but Eragon wasn't so sure of it.

"As I was saying, we wanted to originally bring you in for some kind of ransom, but recent events have caused me to rethink of my actions and give me a need to speak to you about a, well proposition that could be made between us." Eragon felt torn between laughing and shouting at his incredulousness. All this, all of what he had gone through in the past week, was for a contract of some sort? Why not call, or contact him by the normal methods he was known to use?

Ajihad noticed his rising petulance and hurriedly kept the conversation running, "This however would be unlike any contract you have ever received before."

That perked up his interest and he considered it for a moment before nodding, but without the conviction that would prove his eagerness and curiosity. Showing your interest was a way to get yourself undermined and killed, and Eragon had learned that the hard way.

"The contract would consist of the Varden paying you a sum of two thousand, five hundred dollars a fortnight, in return for agreeing to work under the Varden for an unknown period of time."

Well that was an unexpected statement.

**Change POV**

Ajihad concluded his heavy proclamation and proceeded to watch Eragon with his grave eyes. Eragon through all of this was standing quietly and calmly although Arya was sure that Eragon was just putting up a facade. She didn't know much about the elusive assassin but what from what she could discern he wasn't the type to work underneath others.

He began to draw himself up, to respond to the deal that Ajihad had unpredictably wrought out to him. And of course, Brom chose that minute to storm in.

"Ajihad! I swear to the gods of above and below that if I'm not allowed to go after that search party then..." his voice trailed off as he saw Eragon's figure, glaring at him with such ice that Arya wasn't at all surprised when he flinched. Brom took a long look at the suddenly stiff, alert outline that was Eragon looking at him coldly, before speaking swiftly too Ajihad; "I shall speak to you of this later."

And he departed the grand room, red and white cape, swirling around his ankles as he strode towards a side door that was hidden in the rock. Eragon watched him leave, staring at his back every inch of the way, until Brom left his field of vision.  
Once Brom was gone, the tension in the room sunk down to bearable levels again, and Arya took in a breath she hadn't realised she was holding.

Eragon turned his piercing eyes onto Ajihad, who looked straight back at him, apparently unfazed about the look that Eragon was currently giving him. Saphira leaned over slowly and whispered in her ear; "In truth, Ajihad is actually rather worried about the turn of events that have occurred in the cast couple of minutes."

Now that Saphira had pointed that out, she could spot the well hidden gleam of anxiety that was filling the Varden leader's thoughts currently. Eragon was silent for a long minute before replying and shocking everyone.

"No."

"What?" Saphira exclaimed loudly. Everyone looked at her, and she quieted down, embarrassed by her outburst. Arya took over from Saphira who was trying to force a torrent of words past her clenched jaw.

"What she means is, why do you refuse the contract that was kindly offered to you by Ajihad?"

Eragon looked at her disdainfully, already shaking his head.

"Don't honey up your words Arya, I know you want me to accept this just like you Saphira and you Ajihad. I don't have to explain my reasons to anyone of you and I would prefer if I didn't have to." Arya bristled quite visibly and turned to Ajihad.

"Could Eragon and I have a private moment for a minute?" She asked sweetly. Murmurs of quiet surprise came up when they heard of Sharp Shooters true identity. Eragon however was not angered by her releasing his name to the Varden council members. Nor did he seem deceived by her tone of voice it seemed, and was preparing himself for the yelling he was sure that was coming. Ajihad nodded, perhaps hoping she would be able to turn Eragon's mind.

"You may use the ante hall where _Eragon_ came in earlier." Both Eragon and Arya caught the extra emphasis on Eragon's name but neither deemed it necessary to comment on it.

The door came upon them quickly, and once more the chime sounded as the entrance was pulled open by her hands. Shutting the door softly behind them, she whirled on Eragon and spoke quietly, but with an air of anger to her voice that caught Eragon momentarily by surprise.

"How could you refuse an offer made to you like this? I'm quite sure that 2500 dollars per fortnight is quite luxurious, even to one who has barrels of gold such as you."

Eragon stiffened slightly and spoke back in an equally menacing tone; "It's not about the money, it never has been! You don't even know anything about me and you still accuse me of being something that you're not even sure that I am! No, that's not why I refused his offer and if you cannot see that, then you aren't as smart as I originally took you for."

His statement stopped her in her tracks, just as she was about to release more heated words into the air. Instead of speaking she released her intake of breath with a sharp hiss, as she concentrated on finding Eragon's reason for defying Ajihad's proposal. She went over Eragon and his character and reviewed everything she knew about him.

He was strong and skilled, with a sniper, his telekinetic ability and his mastery of hand-to-hand combat and close range weapons of such was at a standard that was rarely seen, even at the Varden. If she had to say so he was rather handsome and he had a figure that was physically pleasing, to the eyes and otherwise.

No, what was she saying, she wasn't attracted to Eragon, she loved Faolin, it would be akin to betraying his trust if she even though about Eragon in that way.

He had a strong sense of independence, much like her as was proven by his reluctance to tell her of his abduction when he was only four. And then she realised what was preventing him from accepting this job. His pride and independence didn't allow him to willingly work under any who he didn't feel was superior enough to have the rights over him, and rightly so. Eragon was stronger than anyone else she knew and none had the strength or ability to take his control.

"Your independence and your pride are preventing you from doing this?" Eragon snorted in derision and replied with sarcasm dripping from his words like honey from a beehive.

"Well, you are as smart as I took you for Arya, took you long enough though." She ignored his slightly aggravating words, as she knew him well enough to accept that that was the closest answer to yes that she was going to get.

"Well then," she whispered in a gentle voice that surprised Eragon and even herself. "You might need to compromise with Ajihad to get the deal you want." Eragon appeared thoughtful for a moment but then nodded.

They reopened the doors and walked back into the grand room, as Arya had always liked to call it, since it was the biggest room in the entire facility that was under the city. It was so big that the Varden had hardly any of the money and resources that would be needed to refine and completely light up the cavernous place.

But, Arya preferred it that way since the unseeable ceiling gave the room a feel of mystery and dignified power, and that was what the Varden depended on mainly to survive. But, although this was rather large, it was nothing compared to Du WeldenVarden, where the buildings towered over the streets. It made the Twin Towers and the Empire State feel small.

They pushed through the oak doors once again, where all eyes except for Ajihad's were immediately upon them, scrutinising for details about what had happened in the ante chamber. She returned to her bench seat, where Saphira was immediately whispering to her, questioning for details.

Shaking her head, she tried to tell Saphira without speaking that now wasn't the right time. But she had a feeling that the blonde girl was just going to infiltrate her thoughts and find out what had happened anyway, so she forced a message throughout her consciousness; _Not now Saphira, I'll tell you later. _

She knew she had got the message across when she backtracked slightly away from her and sat still again, focusing on Eragon, who was looking at Ajihad who was reading through some paperwork on his desk.

Arya could tell that Eragon was beginning to get frustrated with Ajihad and she hoped that he wouldn't tear apart the room with his telekinesis. She breathed deeply in relief when he did nothing, but continue to look at Ajihad with a calm expression.

No-one, however expected it when he suddenly thrust his hand out, blowing the papers that the Varden leader was currently leafing through across the room. Ajihad finally acknowledged Eragon by looking up, slowly with a calm neutral expression. But Arya could see the glint of respect in his usually cold, flinty eyes when he dealt with outsiders.

Eragon had gained, partly Ajihad's respect, and that was remarkable indeed. The only other person to gain his favour that quickly was Brom, and he had been in the art of the orator for years.

Clearing his throat, too gain the council's undiverted attention on him, Eragon returned to his smooth voice, that he had obviously practised on for years.

"I, with some, coaxing of sorts from Arya," all heads turned her way, making her straighten imperceptibly, throwing on her level trademark face of ice and disdain. Nodding at the council members and Ajihad, she returned her unwavering gaze to Eragon, who was looking at her, clearly knowing that a response was coming his way.

"Yes, continue please Sharp Shooter." She kept her statement brief, hoping it would at least unsettle Eragon from his current plan, and show her displeasure at being involved in this.

He nodded and continued, redirecting his sight to Ajihad. "As I was saying, I have decided to accept your offer."

The room went dead quiet and Eragon was under extremely intense scrutiny, from both her, Saphira and Ajihad, and the council, specifically Jormundur.

Ajihad seemed to relax ever so slightly, pleased with the outcome of events. She recognised that he was preparing to seal the deal, but that was when Eragon decided to continue, dropping his bomb.

"However, I do have one condition."

All heads snapped round to look at Eragon, who was still staring determinedly at Ajihad. The man in question was redoubling his already intense scrutiny on Eragon before, slowly, carefully replying as to be cautious about falling into any traps that Eragon might have sprung with words.

"What would this..." He paused for a moment, rethinking his unfinished question.

"What would this, term be?" Arya noted that Ajihad was using the shortest amount of words possible that would be polite, in this situation, obviously aware that Eragon was now the puppet master.

Eragon was now looking more confident, knowing that for the time-being, he was in control. "It would be that I will not work under you, but with you. As partners of a sort, for the time you want."

Ajihad was now carefully considering his options. Arya desperately hoped that he wouldn't say something that would offend or annoy Eragon. They needed his help, more than he could know.

Slowly, Ajihad came to terms with this and tried to compromise with Eragon in turn; "Well, I don't see a problem with that, except we would have to reduce your payment as the Varden cannot afford you that much uncertain money."

"I understand."

"Good."

"But, I still cannot do this for free, I need some form of payment."

And the bantering continued, back and forth until the two finally reached an agreement, Eragon would be a partner for a time, but with a reduced payment of one thousand dollars, American money.

Ajihad now turned to her and the others on the bench. "I know you must be getting cramped sitting there for so long so we will all adjourn for lunch, and then have an hour to ourselves until we meet back here."

Everyone stood and Saphira let out a groan; "More sitting, more boredom, and Ajihad's right, my legs are killing me!"

Arya could see Saphira trying to hobble along, casting scathing looks at her rebelling legs. Stifling a laugh at the sight, she turned to try and find something else to capture her attention, so she didn't have to look at the amusing sight Saphira was putting on.

"Well, I must say Saphira, what has that chair done to you?" The voice had a slightly young ring to it, quite different from the deeper voice shown to Ajihad.

Spinning around she say Eragon standing behind her, a grin stretched across his face at Saphira. Opening her mouth, she looked at Eragon as her brain desperately tried to compile some words in her larynx before she promptly snapped her jaw shut again.

Laughing at the sight, Eragon now spoke to her, grinning even wider now; "I never thought I would be able to catch you napping like that Arya, you need to pick up your game!"

Turning away she tried to hide the pink tinge that was spreading over her face, embarrassed and slightly mortified at Eragon's antics, but she had a faint smile upon her lips.

**Change POV**

He could actually scarcely believe he had managed to catch Arya with her guard down like that, the memory of her gaping like a goldfish was burned into his memories. He wasn't going to let her forget about it either...

Looking back up, he heard Saphira curse as her legs gave out from lack of blood in her limbs. Turning to her, he asked slowly, while trying not to break out in all-out laughter right then and there, since it would lower his legendary image in the eyes of the Varden, if she wanted assistance.

"No thanks Eragon, I'm fine, just as soon as I can, get up that is." She finished lamely, wincing as she tried once again to rise. Snorting, Eragon wasn't about to take no for an answer as he lifted her into the air with his power.

She squealed slightly as he raised her, but gave way to laughter as he spun her around in mid-air.

"Tell me where your room is and I'll take you there, but not necessarily by walking."

Saphira laughed at his behaviour, even he was surprised at how reckless he was acting, he never had taken the risk of making friends before, ever. It was a new and daunting experience for him and he distrusted it majorly. Saphira and Arya noticed how he withdrew into himself and Arya took the opportunity to whisper to Saphira-

"Check what's happened to make him like this."

Saphira nodded, and reached her mind out, albeit cautiously and entered the fringes of Eragon's mind, only to be whisked into one of the dark memories she had spoken to him about before the meeting; _Eragon was thrown into the car._

"I want my parents!" he sobbed in vain. A harsh voice broke the deepening silence that had gathered within the interior of the car-

"_Where you're going boy, you won't need parents."_

An extremely white hand shot out of the darkness and crunched into his temple, knocking him unconscious instantly, darkness clouding his vision over...

"Saphira!" Eragon had somehow sensed that someone was intruding upon his most private thoughts and memories. Looking up she noted that Eragon's face was twisted in a snarl of anger and his eyes held a murderous look. She found herself pinned in place by his telekinesis, unable to move, nod or even blink.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Arya pinned likewise; "I will tell you once and once only." He was breathing heavily, trying to restrain his intent of murder.

"My mind, is my only sanctuary, everything else that I once held dear to me was violated and crushed to oblivion, don't violate my last refuge." And with that she was dropped, unceremoniously to the ground as Eragon strode off.

She turned to Arya and whispered; "What have we done?"

Arya just shook her head and replied; "I have no idea Saphira, but I have a feeling that it wasn't good."

He needed to calm down. What the hell was happening to him? He had shown more emotions in the past week then he had in the last 5 to 7 years. What was happening to draw these fickle fiends from him?

He knew the answer well enough, but he didn't want to accept it. He needed peace and quiet for a time. His stomach rumbled, reminding him of the lack of food he had consumed for the past day, but he ignored it.

Many years ago, he had taken a challenge to fast for however long he could and he had lasted for six days, which was remarkable, they had said. One or two days were nothing to him, and he had endured it many, many times before.

He needed to think. What was he accepting this contract for? He had never, ever chosen sides in a partnership dispute of sorts before and he was fully aware of it, whatever Ajihad wanted him to think.

He sighed as the hour dried up and the alarm he had set himself went off, blaring in his breast pocket. Switching it off by swiping his hand across the shirt, which he had infused with a magnetic sensor. It was activated by the movement and sent a signal to the alarm, turning it off.

He had memorised the path back to the 'Grand Room' where he pushed the heavy doors open for the fifth time that day and found he was early. Resigning himself to waiting, he located a seat with tanned leather on the back and seat of it. Walking over, he sat on it, releasing a barely audible groan into the still, slightly musty air that permeated the vast interior of the room.

The sound of footsteps came to his sharp ears, and he glanced to Ajihad's desk, where he saw the man striding over with a black briefcase in his right hand, and a connectable projector in his left. He nodded to him, when Ajihad looked up and caught sight of him, lounging back in the chair.

The door burst open on its hinges and Eragon watched onwards as the council, or what was of the council now attempted to make a resounding entrance, which fell well, short, due to Sabrae and Fundor.

Sabrae, due to her being majorly over weight and looking like an over sized penguin attempting to walk for the first time, and Fundor because he had about the height and complexion of a large dwarf, and Eragon's experience with the group of small people that were called the Dwarves was that they made rather large fools of themselves.

Arya and Saphira arrived on the scene only a fifth of a minute after the council and both looked rather surprised to see Eragon already there, waiting for them. As soon as they took their places on the bench seat, Ajihad cleared his throat; a sound that echoed voluminously around the enclosed space.

"Now that everyone has returned, we may continue with proceedings. As I was saying before we left, Eragon, you are now a partner and have to be updated on the current situation of which we require you for."

Eragon took this opportune moment to speak with both hands-" I know about your partnership with Beor and the various people within Du WeldenVarden, is that what you wanted me to know?"

Ajihad appeared shocked for a moment but regathered his thoughts and masked, blank face and replied; "I was going to notify you on that but no that was not the primary reason for this deal."

Eragon raised an eyebrow wondering what other reason Ajihad could have for involving him in the Varden's affairs. His curiosity was nourished a few seconds later when Ajihad revealed his reason for doing so.

"You have heard of the army company Empire haven't you?" Ajihad asked. He nodded, of course he knew about Empire. A lunatic called Galbatorix ran it and by most accounts he was barking mad.

"Well, the corporate owner of that company, Galbatorix has discovered that his company, before he came to power, made ICBM missiles and SLBM missiles, for the American War Effort against Nazi Germany.

"Galbatorix, however has no interest in this sort of thing, but he wants to buy up every major company that has a good foothold in every key city on the globe, which means our coalition of company's and many others. So far he has been buying nearly 50 per cent of what his goal implies to date, and he has now turned his attention on us."

"We know that this means blackmailing, isolation from the other business giants and possibly even an armed takeover of wherever the leader of the particular company is residing at the time."

Eragon nodded, the reason for his hiring starting to become clear, but there were still one or two jigsaw pieces missing from the overall pictures. His suspicion was proven correct when Ajihad continued.

"We have recently received a message however that Galbatorix's plans go much larger than this. He essentially wants world supremacy, like any villain in the past, akin to Adolf Hitler, but there is a much worse threat that is occurring." At this he switched on the projector and an image of a wall appeared.

_"Good day to you, Presidents and Prime Ministers of your respective countries. I am Galbatorix, and I own the company Empire. Now, I have a proposition too make with you all, and I'm quite sure you will find it agreeable."_

His voice took on a lighter note, quite different from the deep practised voice that came with an expert orator.

_"I have, for many years been expanding my buisness until it has reached the pinnacle of the buisness world. Rich, famed and the largest company in the world. But I want to expand even further. I shall mail to you all the details of this proposition and whether you agree to i tor not shall be interesting, but I have a distinct feeling that you all will."_

His voice reverted to his smooth, pleasant tone that he had used at the start of the recording.

_"I shall mail the deeds to you within the next two months, make use of it and plan for what may occur within these decisions that you make. Good day, leaders, make the most of your time. For you may only have a little left."_

The recording ended there and Ajihad switched the projector off, before closing his briefcase with a loud snap.

"Eragon, can you tell me anything about your last contractor?"

Eragon nodded, he could remember some things but he had never discovered his identity.

"He wore a dark cowl, but his skin was a bone white, an extremely stark white. He had a strange hair style, a maroon red that was shaved down the middle and his voice sounded like a snake would."

Ajihad groaned in both relief and condemnation.

"Well, finally a sign that Galbatorix is moving against us. He used Durza to hire you to assassinate Randall, although Randall was a rather despicable man, he was still a valuable asset to the Varden."

Eragon didn't exactly know if he was being berated about this or just being handed the facts he needed to know.

"Durza works for Galbatorix?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so Eragon."

He gritted his teeth as white hot anger coursed through his veins. He had been tricked into receiving a contract that would tip the scales of equilibrium into a full scale nuclear war.

He spun round and slammed the chair near his hands with such force that it broke in two. Ajihad and the others were looking at him worriedly, wondering if he would take his anger out on them next.

"I'm good, don't worry." _I was tricked._

Ajihad's mobile broke the inrushing silence and he looked apologetically at them; "I am terribly sorry but this is important, I must take this."

Answering the call, they watched as his eyes narrowed then went wide with shock and horror, as he quickly ended the call with a brief; "I understand."

Arya was the one to ask him the question in all their minds- "What is it?"

Ajihad didn't need to answer as a dull boom shook the air and ground all around them.

**Wow, this chapter was extremely hard to write! I didn't have any idea how to portray Ajihad so if you guys could leave some reviews on this so I could get some input on how I went?**

**Replying to... Elemental Dragon Slayer: Yeh, I realised that I had that sort of thing happening when I read through your review but as I said in my A/N at the beginning I am trying to work on it... :D**


	5. Durza's Traps

**Major Wooot! 1000 people have read the story! I never even thought I would get to 100 views! You guys are just, awesome!**

_Ajihad's mobile broke the inrushing silence and he looked apologetically at them; "I am terribly sorry but this is important, I must take this."_

_Answering the call, they watched as his eyes narrowed then went wide with shock and horror, as he quickly ended the call with a brief; "I understand."_

_Arya was the one to ask him the question in all their minds- "What is it?"_

_Ajihad didn't need to answer as a dull boom shook the air and ground all around them._

It sounded like the very Earth itself was growling at them, rumbling through the rock, sending waves of sonic power through the ground. Eragon staggered up from where he had just fallen to his knees and shouted at Ajihad;

"What the Hell is happening!?"

Ajihad shook his head and yelled back over the increasing sounds of shifting rock, "Galbatorix is making his move, he sent Durza, some 30 armed men and the Razac Brothers to try and kill maim or capture me!"

Arya and Saphira rose from where they had fallen and were about to say something when the lights imploded, sending glass and sparks flying every which way. Someone distinctly screamed in the distance.

Eragon grabbed Ajihad, Saphira and Arya, dragged them to the doors where he released them and they pushed through into what looked and sounded like a demonic nightmare.

Blood red sirens, encaged in titanium mesh metal were blaring, adding their own wail of discord into the frantic fray that was occurring in the corridors.

The only lighting was from the security lights, which were continually flashing, plunging the corridors into darkness every few seconds before relighting it. There was a cacophony of screams, wails and gunfire, creating an eerie choir of disjointed sound.

They sprinted into one of the rooms that were being sieged, and Eragon came face to face with his previous contractor. This time however he his cowl was thrown back and his deathly pale skin was visible to everyone. _Durza._

Hearing them enter he whirled with a sneer open his lips, which only widened when his maroon eyes came to rest on Eragon. Striding determinedly forward to face Durza he yelled back to Ajihad, telling him to get out of the base and that he would handle Durza.

"Get out! Now! I'll handle him, you need to get out!"

Whirling back to face Durza, he started running towards him, hell bent on getting the payback he wanted.

**Change POV**

Arya looked onwards as she saw Eragon engage Durza. The battle was raging fiercely between them, but Arya observed that they were perhaps equals in combat. Except Eragon didn't really on just combat to win a fight, he thrust out both hands, slamming Durza into the wall with his telekinesis.

The impact of it was so hard that the wall was cracked and dented from the battering it had taken. She had to leave, not watch the fiery dance that was unravelling before her eyes, the full skills of Eragon and a feared enemy of the Varden.

Wrenching her eyes away, she sprinted after Saphira, who was contacting the generals inside the facility, notifying them of the rather urgent situation that was bringing down the Oklahoma Base.

She burst into a room and was surprised and bemused to see Angela lounging on a couch, drinking tea! Was the head healer barking mad? There was a war breaking out right outside this room and she wanted to drink tea!

"What are you doing Angela?"

"Shouldn't that be obvious Arya? I am sitting down on my favourite couch, drinking tea."

"I know that! What I was implying was that is it appropriate to be drinking tea at this moment?"

"Of course! Mid-afternoon is always the best time to have drinks like this!"

Arya groaned, not even bothering to try and banter with this impossible woman. She turned to face her and hissed through her clenched teeth; "There is a battle going on outside this room, there are people dying. And you are drinking tea, acting like it's just a cold going round!"

Angela blinked and spoke simply; "It will sort itself out."

But she had said it to an empty room.

Arya sprinted at full speed down an adjourning corridor, looking into every room for a sign of Ajihad or Saphira. A voice suddenly whispered in the depths of her mind; _near the entrance lobby. _

Saphira! Dashing off towards the lobby, coming into contact with enemies multiple times, but she managed to evade them with little trouble, as her goal got ever closer.

Skidding down a right side corridor, she was halted when she got to the lobby, and saw Durza go flying past her, slamming into a bookcase and slumping momentarily to the floor, as Eragon strode passed her and lifted him up, throwing him around the room.

Durza however had enough coherency left in his thoughts to dodge Eragon's next telekinesis blow and roll to the side, jack knifing his legs to kick Eragon's knee, almost breaking it backwards.

Eragon was much stronger then he had let anyone else know still not releasing a single sound of pain, well none that reached her ears. She saw Ajihad and Saphira watching the fight with wide eyes, Blodhgarm taking his place next to Ajihad.

Recognising that the Varden Leader was in no immediate peril, Arya looked back and watched the face off continue between Durza and Eragon.

**Change POV**

Left hook, parry with the right arm, and jump over the leg swinging towards his right ankle, block with his left arm. He had a plan in mind to defeat or subdue Durza but he needed to buy himself some room. Slowly, ever so slowly, he began to circle Durza, not enough to alert him to what was happening but enough to get into the place he wanted quickly.

Before he had initiated his plan of attack, Durza had been up against a wall, so he had no chance of getting the area he needed to begin his takedown, but now Durza was backing into a corridor.

Throwing in a surprise attack with his telekinesis gave him the range of movement needed for what he was attempting. Sliding backwards, Durza halted his unwanted movement and took a moment to regain his heaving lungs.

Durza came running in for another attack but Eragon was ready for him. Charging forward, he jumped, and using the momentum borne from his headlong rush, placed both of his boots on Dura's chest and flipped backwards, kicking his enemy in the chin with his steel capped boot, before executing the flip and landing in a crouch.

Durza went flying from Eragon's kick and landed flat on his back, the force of the kick knocking him into a momentary daze. Stunned for a moment, Durza shook his head, to clear the daze that was clearly drifting through his mind and spoke in a snarl to Eragon.

"Next time I see you, and I promise that that shall be soon, I will personally drag you through hell and back until you reach my boss." And with his threat delivered, he ran into the smoke, vanishing from sight.

A chilling thought went struck Eragon though, something they had all forgotten; _Where are the Razac Brothers? _Nothing stirred though so he assumed that they had made their escape like Durza, shame, he wanted to get a good look at all of his adversarys.

Everyone turned, and mutually walked towards the elevator to the car park, even Angela who had somehow silently appeared while they were all distracted. There plans were waylaid however, when they heard a screeching sound rapidly approaching from inside the elevator.

Ajihad's eyes widened and he dived to the side. Everyone else took his example and jumped, as half a truckload of elevator, winch and pulley shrapnel came through the doors, even though they were closed.

After the fragments had stopped rebounding everywhere and the dust had cleared, Eragon rose and observed the destroyed elevator. Arya and Ajihad rose to stand next to him as he surveyed the wreckage.

"It seems like the remainder of the kidnapping crew that Galbatorix sent cut the lift cables, hoping to kill us with the resulting shrapnel."

Arya added her thoughts into his out loud musings; "It was a good thing that Ajihad reacted that quickly otherwise we would be dead."

"We need to move." Ajihad spoke up; obviously nonplussed about all the non intentional praise he was receiving. Nodding, Eragon and Arya jogged back down the passageway, Saphira, Ajihad and Blodhgarm following close behind. Angela had disappeared somewhere again, but she would turn up, she had proven herself very resilient.

"There's an old ventilation system near the holding chambers. We can climb out into the parking lot there," Blodhgarm spoke up, eager to be of use to the others.

Eragon turned to him and replied quickly; "Lead the way Blodhgarm."

They spent five minutes walking the now silent corridors that were filled with a lung clogging dust. The once smooth ceiling was split and cracked; barely any space was left untouched. It was like an earthquake had suddenly struck down on the place.

The holding chamber was actually a room full of cells, the place where Eragon harboured a sneaking notion that if he had been caught by the Varden, he would have been placed at.

The cell inmates were grotesque to look at, emaciated and black and blue, cuts and slashes inflicted across their beaten faces. Saphira noticed his discomfort of the room and spoke quietly to him; "This is where the Varden houses its worse prisoners, these are mostly terrorists on the most wanted lists of their respective countries, but occasionally we get the odd mercenary or sneaky accountant."

Eragon nodded, feeling anything but relieved at the explanation Saphira had given him. They made their way down the dented cell bars, stepping over large shards of rock that lay where they had burst through the ceiling and walls.

A cell loomed up on the left, a boulder crushing the interior. Blood was spattered everywhere, over the walls and dripping slowly off the ceiling, pooling on the floor where it was slowly drying, crusting over into a black tar colour. A half squashed limb lay splayed across the ground, looking more like a leg since the tibia and fibula bones were rather crudely exposed.

Looking away from the gruesome sight, Eragon fought the urge to lose his stomach as his mind tried to expel the ghastly images from memory and consciousness. Deciding to just take it in his stride, Eragon moved quickly down past the remaining jail cells, staring straight ahead, determined to not take in any more possible descriptions that he would rather pass.

Blodhgarm halted and pointed at a narrow opening in the ceiling. The ventilation network, which, as Ajihad had explained to him along the way, ran nearly two kilometres under the city and into the sewers, which was partly the reason why the holding cells smelled so terrible. They decided that the easiest course of action to get into the system was for Eragon to 'lift' them up and then lift himself into it before traversing the system from there.

The ventilation network was small, cramped and smelled of rotten eggs and rancid milk. The air was dark and blurred; Eragon wondered how this thing even had the capability to send fresh air down to the tunnels below. Following the dark shape of Blodhgarm, who was traversing the almost pitch black systems with little difficulty.

They reached the car park after around a quarter of an hour had passed, light streaming through a vent in the claustrophobic confines of the steel structure, the soft whir of a diesel engine running in the ceilings.

Eragon slammed his hand into the vent, which refused to budge. He swore; they needed to get out, before Galbatorix's men brought the entire building in on them. But the massive complex was utterly silent, devoid of life, with only cars and hunks of metal populating the space.

Eragon decided to take this from a different approach. Gathering the telekinesis into a congealed, compressed ball, he let fly at the conductor vent. The metal screeched as it took a massive blow and two of the four welded screws popped out of their sockets.

Another blast and they were climbing out of the shaft, courtesy of Eragon's telekinesis. They made their way to the third level, which Ajihad briefly explained to him, was the floor which housed all of the Varden's transport.

Sliding onto his Honda, he let the motor start and warm up, feeling the familiar satisfaction when the engine roared as he revved it a few times. Arya started her bike while Saphira got in a stylish Porsche. Ajihad and Blodhgarm unlocked a Convertible.

They all drove down the ramp, with Eragon leading, towards the main entrance. Neither Eragon nor Arya noticed the tripwire that their motorbikes didn't trip, but Saphira's Porsche loosened it and the Convertible set it off.

A rumbling filled the air, much like the one previously, but it was a sound Eragon knew and recognised.

"Explosives! We need to get out of here!"

Arya, her ever quick reflexes, allowing her to react with speeds that were at times inhuman, sped down the final ramp and into the busy main street. Ajihad and Blodhgarm raced out next, closely pursued by Saphira.

As soon as they were clear, Eragon pumped the gas furiously and whizzed out of the building, weaving in and out of cars towards the exit ramp. The rumbling ominously stopped, only to be replaced half a second later by a sonic boom that vaporised the two support pillars at the corner of the building.

Dust clouded the low ceilinged car park, causing Eragon to cough twice, before he cleared the ramp and was into the metropolis. A terrible creaking groan filled the air, eerily reminding Eragon of the twin towers incident. That held some bad memories for him. _Garrow and Roran. _

With two of its most pivotal safety supports gone, the 6 storey building was crippled, a wounded beast finally falling to its knees, as the huntsmen closed in. The steel framework shrieked as the weight of 200 metric tonnes of solid concrete became too much to bear, and Eragon watched onwards as it slowly, but surely bent and then snapped completely.

A wave of concrete came piling out from the building, as it was lifted off of the remaining supports that were holding it down. Six thousand tonnes of building and meshed car fell with a thunderous roar. Eragon saw several bystanders crushed while trying to run, and he felt a wave of remorse wash softly over him.

He followed Ajihad and the others out of Oklahoma, most likely for the last time. A black cloud of smoke and dust was rising high into the sky, a dark foreground against a clear blue sky, the result of the morning happenings.

Durza was responsible for that; it also explained why he had run back into the base instead of into the lift. He had ordered the lift to be sabotaged so it could hopefully kill them. And he was most definitely accountable for the demolition charges set into the building that had been destroyed.

Shaking his head, he cruised on just behind Arya as he sank into another one of his looming memories...

_"We need to leave this place!" Garrow shouted, he had always been a prideful strong man, a fact made even more prominent by his decision to stay inside and help Eragon and Roran out of the ablaze building._

The kitchen was suddenly cut off as the roof collapsed; showering the so far untouched sofa with sparks and roils of thick smoke. A shout came from another room; Roran yelling for help.

True to form, Garrow sprinted towards the direction of his trapped son, but not before shouting over his shoulder- "Get out Eragon! I'll get Roran out but you'll get killed staying in here!"

Eragon was reluctant to listen but he knew that Garrow was right, so using his weak emergences of what his power was going to become, he shifted a beam and squeezed himself through the side door, where the fire service and paramedics were arriving on the scene.

He heard a terrible squealing, and the sounds of an explosion, which in turn caused the weakened roof to completely lose the rest of its remaining support, falling in and dooming Garrow and Roran to inevitable death.

_"No!" Eragon screamed, sprinting back towards the house but was held back by four sets of arms, all struggling to hold him back as adrenaline surged through his body. He could almost hear the tormented screams of his friends as they were condemned to the void._

The morning brought the grey pallor of fading smoke to the town, where Eragon was shoving aside the remains of planks and bricks, to get to his friends final resting place.

He was greeted with a gut wrenching sight, two, unrecognisable bodies, lying side by side, all the skin and blood was burnt and congealed into globs of brown, disgusting looking matter. They had unconsciously curled into a sickening fetal position, in a last attempt to escape the unforgiving flames, but the remains of what had been Garrow and Roran's faces were not twisted in brutal agony, as one might expect, but in unyielding determination, like father like son. Eragon thought, a bitter realization.

_He turned his back on what was once his part time home only after burying their bodies, using his fledgling power to shift the dirt and move their bodies into their respective graves._

Whispering a final goodbye, he turned his back on the town forever, thus closing himself off from the world.

That was the day he lost the last of his liveliness, it seemed, but now, Saphira and Arya were bringing it back out again. But was that a good thing?

Arya slowed down enough to let him cruise beside her, in Saphira's slipstream. They rode in silence, until Arya got a call, most likely from Ajihad. He couldn't hear what was being said, but soon enough, he was let into the loop by Arya.

"Ajihad wants us to go on ahead and find a place to stay; we need to remain incognito for a time, so no gravity defying displays for bystanders."

She added the last part with a hint of amusement, like she had said something that was funny to her. Raising an eyebrow, he said in a calm, calculated voice that hid his amusement and slight embarrassment; "Well then, if that's what Ajihad needs us to do let us do it."

**Change POV**

Eragon seemed distracted, thought Arya. Distracted and repressed. It was like he had fallen into something dark, and it was slowly consuming him. He had failed to laugh, smile or even attempt to make fun of her or Saphira, something was wrong.

She was going to confront him about it sooner or later, but not now. Right now there was work to be done. She and Eragon halted outside an accommodation hotel, scanning the area for any sign of hostile activity or meddling in the immediate vicinity, like her mother and father had taught her.

Dispelling any unwanted memories that the thought might have brought, she focused on Eragon's grey face in the dim, cloudy night. His face was taut and had many worry lines that she had not seen previously running across it. His lips were slightly down turned and he appeared to tense at every stride.

But most disconcerting of them all were his eyes, already faint and downturned, were completely blank, no emotion at all, but there was no sign of any dam wall that held back his disappeared emotions, it was like they had just been... vanquished. Driven out of his conscious's landscape, but what she didn't realise was that she was half correct. Eragon had driven out his unruly emotions, a technique he had learned a while back, so he could face a situation with razor sharp clarity and reactions, showing and offering no remorse.

They advanced slowly towards the front door, where they pushed it open and entered into the smoky, loud interior of the hotel.

Smoke and sweat clung to the air, sending out a reeking stench that followed most clubs and hotels. The interior was made of polished wood, lovingly cleaned, most likely every day before opening time. The bar seemed to be made of three barrels with rough, hand-sawn planks of maple wood, also polished, but with coarse edges and vertices.

A bartender sat behind the bar bench, slowly cleaning a pint glass with a dirty rag. Feeling slightly disgusted at the hygiene standards the man obviously set himself, she made a mental note to not drink any alcohol while she was here.

Eragon stepped forward and struck up a conversation between the two, trying to bargain themselves a room for themselves, Ajihad, Saphira and Blodhgarm.

Coughing pointedly three times was all it took to get the bartenders attention, thought Arya sarcastically, returning her runaway thoughts back to the conversation that was ensuing.

"We need a room."

That perked up the bartender's interest, a deal, that could potentially be worth making.

"How many are with you?"

"Just us," They had agreed before they entered the building that they were going to act as brother and sister staying together, as husband and wife would have made things quite a bit more awkward and strained between them.

The man walked slowly over to the cash register, as if walking pained him greatly, and began punching up the numbers to get their receipt whirring out of the machine.

Eragon payed in cash, and before long, they were striding up the rickety wooden stairs that creaked at every two steps. She pulled out her cell and called Ajihad, telling him to come under their window so Eragon could lift them up.

Fifteen long minutes later, they were all in the room with Eragon panting and sweating. The past day seemed to have taken a lot out of him, especially if his energy levels were already depleted from the ill welcome he had received at the Varden and his fight with Durza.

She seemed to be right, because it was barely eight at night and he was looking like a zombie. Berating him for staying up, she ordered him to rest immediately, but before he obeyed her orders she saw it.

The tiny glimmer of emotion so repressed that it hardly existed in his being. She knew it was there but how could she begin to fix it? Something that needed to be dwelled upon tomorrow, she reasoned.

Lying on her mattress, she dropped into a dreamless sleep, one she rarely ever got to experience, all the things she had seen and done...

Relinquishing her grip on her consciousness, she sank into the welcoming black depths that were her dream state.

**This was a much shorter chapter then I wanted to write, but it was starting to get filled in with random stuff and I never, ever want my fic to start getting like that...**

**Replying to... Elemental Dragon Slayer: Yeh, I tried to put more detail in and you guys seem to like it, so I will try and keep it up. :D**

**Replying to... jonwright46: Will do, here's the next one!**

**Replying to... : Good description of Ajihad, you nailed his personality in one friend! About Nasuada and Murtagh... I haven't really thought about how to include them yet, but I will definitely be putting some serious thinking into how I will introduce them in later chapters.**

**Next chapter will be up within three days, I can promise you that, and now I will be putting up chapters that are between at least five and seven thousand words, so should make for a good read for all of you!**


	6. A Misread Ambush

**I've had a reviewer PM me about when ExA will happen... Sorry folks, but Faolin is still alive and while I might make him die horribly (no confirmation) he and Arya are all lovey dovey with each other. If you still harbor feelings of good will, read it and review!**

Although he was an early riser, he woke late that morning, with sunbeams sending dust particles swirling in patterns throughout the room, which was remarkably vacant, devoid of the life it had contained just a few short hours ago.

Heaving himself off of the slightly askew mattress proved a difficult challenge, due to his muscles cramping up extremely badly overnight, he must have tired himself out more than he thought. He sat back down and took ten minutes to stretch his muscles out completely, if his legs were cramped and he got into a fight, it was a recipe for disaster.

He blinked a few times and sank back into his reminiscences of last night, re-evaluating them. A faint grin came across Eragon's face, as he revisited the memories of just before they walked into the... he had never caught the hotel name, he needed to do that before he left, you never knew when you would revisit some place again, especially when you were a hired gun.

_They looked at the windows of the place, listening to the slight beat of the music as the sonic sound came through the wall. Lights twinkled in the dirty windows and the faint murmur of people was able to be made out, even from their distance._

_Ajihad turned to himself and Arya, speaking the plan he had been formulating over the past five minutes._

"We need you two to go in there, and rent a room, for all of us."

_They nodded slowly, unsure of the direction this plan was taking them in. Ajihad took in their cautious looks and continued; "Just to get us a room, nothing more, so we don't have to spend the night in these accursed vehicles._

_"We'll need an alibi, a cover to get us through without suspicion." This from Arya, she was icy cold at times, no almost all the time, he corrected himself. Almost all the time she was like a piece of ice, cold and unyielding to the world, but sometimes she let her guard down, mostly around Saphira, she seemed like her closest friend._

_But she was, as he had evaluated, was cold, calculating and a cunning woman. He would have hated to go up against her in a battle of wills, which they had come close to doing quite a few times already._

_"Yes, you will," Ajihad had resumed speaking, obviously wanting to get this over and done with so he could sleep in a warm bed, presumably. _

_"Yours and Eragon's alibi will be husband and wife, if you are alright with this go and get it done, before we spend half the night in the cars." He felt his eyes widening in horror; he may be working with the Varden for a time, but this was going a little too far._

_He yelled out the only word he could force past his clenched voice-box, at the exact same time that Arya did._

_"No!"_

_Ajihad seemed surprised at this outburst and, wisely, decided to change the facts before any of the two could tear him apart. "Alright! Alright! We'll change the cover to brother and sister. Better?" _

_They both showed their agreement and climbed swiftly out of the car, not wishing to be acting in pretence for any longer than they had to._

Lifting up the closed window, Eragon could make out the figures of Arya and Saphira talking to each other, just below him.

He grinned widely, not realising that his seamless barrier that he had erected was melting away, releasing his contained emotions into his being. When was Arya going to learn that she should never stand underneath a window that contained him on the other side of the glass?

Silently dropping down, hearing Saphira say loudly to Arya; "We should probably go and wake that numbskull up, he'll most likely still be brain dead to the world."

Arya chuckled and replied, the full force of a smirk in her voice.

"Well, with the way you wake people Saphira, you might as well be singing them a lullaby for all the world may care!"

Saphira scowled, annoyed at her being teased.

He touched down behind her, looking at Arya, who could see him, and nodded.

Saphira, meanwhile, was continuing a rant about how she did not sing lullaby's to wake people up.

"I'm telling you, I don't wake people up like that! I'll even go to Eragon and ask him what he thinks on this!" With that she whirled and stopped short, stuttering slightly when she saw Eragon, with his eyebrows raised in amusement and condescending.

"I, you, how... what?" He couldn't help but crack a grin at her gracious greeting, and replied in kind.

"Well, I happened to look out the window and I saw you, so I jumped. The rest you know."

Shaking her head she reached her hand forward and slapped him across his cheek. He recoiled and glared at Saphira, who knew that the tables were turned, as she was smirking at him.

Not breaking eye contact with Saphira, he shot his hand out and levitated Saphira, spinning her around so she shouted in surprise.

Letting her down, he spoke to Arya and Saphira; "We should probably go and meet Ajihad now."

They both nodded, and they started down the roughly hewn concrete path that marked the way to the parking area.

Eragon sped up, catching, and then overtaking Arya on her motorbike. Flying along roads was fun, but after five or more hours of it, it could begin to wear on you. They had received permission from Ajihad to drive on ahead and start looking for another place to stay, as dusk was catching them.

A faint whir was definable in the distance, close enough to faintly hear, but not close enough to identify the origin of it. Even so, it was beginning to drive him crazy, so he slowed down a little, and began searching for it.

There were no cars in sight, they had left Ajihad far behind so they could look, so a ground based vehicle was out of the question. He turned his gaze to the sky, nothing in the north, the same outcome east. Just trees out west, and south...

There!

A black shape was moving south west, back along the highway, prowling like a shark searching for its next meal. It was looking for something, but what? He halted, and felt, rather than saw, Arya pull up beside him.

"What is it Eragon?" She asked impatiently, wanting to keep moving towards safety.  
He wordlessly pointed and she frowned when she saw the sleek, black moving dot on the horizon.

She twisted round, and pulled her rucksack from her shoulders, proceeding to rummage around inside its depths. Finally, she withdrew her hand and revealed a pair of small binoculars, the type that birdwatchers used, although Eragon had never understood, or even attempted to, why.

She raised the binoculars to her eyes and looked towards the shape that was still moving along the highway. Her porcelain face and neck drained of colour, and when she removed the binoculars from her eyes, they looked panicked.

She practically forced them into his hands and gestured towards the source of the sound that was emanating down the countryside. He peered through the binoculars and felt himself sink down a few hundred feet.

The shape was a helicopter, black and metal. It shimmered like it had a mirage surrounding it and it looked to be extremely thick. There were letters printed onto the side, and with some focusing of the lenses was able to make them out.

**PROPERTY OF EMPIRE**

"Oh no," he whispered.

"Quick!" Arya shouted; "We need to reach them before that copter does!"

Eragon revved his engine and reached over to flick on the switch of his second, hardly ever used engine that he activated only in emergencies. And this certainly qualified as an emergency.

He looked at Arya and lifted her onto the back of his motorbike. She started to shout in protest but he silenced her with a look, now wasn't the time.

He quickly reached speeds of past 100 kilometres, and soon exceeded two hundred, in his desperation to reach Ajihad before it was too late for the Varden Leader.

The helicopter was matching, and easily exceeding their pace, also with a lead of ten kilometres, it was going to easily reach the convoy before they did, and he needed to do something.

He began to search for a button he had installed just last month, it was a nitrate release, but Eragon had no idea if it would work or completely backfire and destroy his Honda.

Finding it, he took a deep breath and shouted back at Arya; "Hold on!" Nodding, she reached her arms round and locked her arms about his waist. Eragon felt the beginnings of an extremely foreign feeling stirring deep inside him, before it faded away and he returned his attention to the button.

Pressing down on it hard, nothing happened for a few seconds, and he was about to swear in annoyance, when a great roar started up and he felt the bike surge forwards. The speed meter was flying upwards, past three hundred kilometres, and then it reached the limit, but the bike was still speeding up.

It was a struggle to even steer the onrushing bike, as they shot by cars, the entire world turning into a blur, except for the helicopter, upon which they were gaining. It seemed that the chopper wasn't moving at top speed, it looked like it was hunting for something, or _someone._ Ajihad. Faintly, he could see cars and a truck blocking the road ahead, moving side by side, and preventing any other traffic from moving past.

They were onrushing towards the group with terrifying speed; Eragon was frantically trying to find a way by them without taking drastic measures by shoving them out of the way with his telekinesis. The truck caught his eye; there was a ramp that extended out, but not all the way to the road.

It was almost physically impossible for any normal person to get onto the ramp, but Eragon didn't really qualify for normal. As they hurtled closer to the semi, Eragon slowly exerted his telekinesis onto the bike, but not enough to completely stop the wheels from stopping their manic revolving.

They got within five metres of the massive motor vehicle, where Eragon heaved his power into the bike, lifted it up and hurled it forward, like a javelin towards the incline on the trucks back.

Landing with a loud thump, they lost nearly half of their speed, as the wheels frantically tried to gain purchase on the new surface. They found it, and once again they burst forward, soaring over the bonnet of the semi trailer, and onto the road once again, now in front of the moving road block.

The tires however, couldn't take any more of the building heat and the rear one promptly exploded another three minutes onward. The effect was drastic on the momentum of the bike; without the support of the rear wheel, the entire Honda slipped sideways and went into a deadly flip.

Normally, they would have been thrown off from the massive forces controlling the bike, but, due to the speed at which they were travelling, they were glued to the seat, as the world spiralled out of focus.

Eragon, still had his senses and instincts under control though, and he could feel Arya, gripping him so tightly that it hurt to breath and screaming from pure unadulterated fear. He stretched his hand behind him, gripped Arya with his power, and flung her in the general direction of the grass that grew by the side of the highway.

With its added burden released, the bike came out of its spiral and bounced along the ground. Eragon shut his eyes, hoping they wouldn't ram into any cars in front or behind...

**Switch POV**

Arya felt herself thrown from the bike, as a result of Eragon's telekinesis, and landed in the grass by the side of the road. She managed to get up, and turn to see Eragon and his bike go bouncing and skidding down the road, narrowly missing cars and roadwork signs, to come to a stop on the edge of the highway.

There was no movement.

Arya felt panic rise up within herself, a terrible feeling that had only arrived to her when Faolin had crashed in a helicopter, ironic really, and she had sprinted to his side, only to slap him, hard, when she saw he was only pretending to be dead to scare the wits out of her.

She slid to a stop at the wreckage, if it could be called wreckage. The remains of the bike were scattered in pieces, the smoking hulk of the engines lying next to Eragon's limp body.

Eragon was a mess. His shirt was half charred away, exposing his muscular torso, and he had a multiple cuts on his arms and legs. A particularly long gash went from his forehead to his cheek and it was leaking blood profusely, no matter what she attempted to quell the blood flow.

In time though the blood clotted and he began to stir, relieving her immensely. It had felt like the weight of the world had rested upon her in the past few minutes. He slowly sat up and groaned, from pain or dizziness she wasn't completely sure.

Her question was put to rest a moment later when he groaned once again and spoke to her in a slightly slurred voice; "Arya, would you care to explain why there are another two of you?"

She stifled a chuckle and reprimanded him in a stern tone. "You crashed. What the hell were you thinking!?"

He shook his head slowly and said his reason for the madness of the past fifteen minutes. "We needed to reach Ajihad, and I brought you to him."

She shook her head violently; "No you didn't! We're in the middle of a highway Eragon, how do you expect to have gotten to Ajihad here..."

Her voice trailed off as she saw Saphira's Porsche cruise slowly past them, and the swing smartly around, once she had presumably seen the residue of Eragon's bike and Eragon himself, sitting on the side of the highway, looking like he had brought a knife to a gunfight.

Saphira jumped out of the car and jogged the short distance over to them.

"What happened?" She said quietly, as if she was determined to avoid any harsh words and yelling.

She swiftly shook her head at her; "Later, right now we need to find Ajihad and..."

"You needed me?" Ajihad's deep voice rang out over them, making Arya sigh in relief. But a new worry sprang up in the recesses of her mind.

_Where was the helicopter?_

"We need to leave. Now!" she said firmly, trying to express the absolute requirement that they follow her directions at this moment.

They thankfully decided to agree without argument, and they lifted a woozy Eragon into the back seat of Saphira's Porsche, where Arya now took the wheel.

"What do we do now Arya?" Blodhgarm's voice crackled from the radio set in the centre console of the car. Grabbing the transmitter she answered Blodhgarm's question by answering-

"We need to get away from the copter that is tailing us, Galbatorix has sent the Razac after us so we need to detour, and somewhere they won't be able to follow."

There was silence from there end at the moment, and some scuffling before Ajihad returned her transmission; "I have an idea, tail us, so we don't get separated by any other cars."

After radioing back her acknowledgement, she closely followed the convertible as it swerved around cars and buses, making its way towards the Missouri Border Tunnel, as she slowly started to see Ajihad's plan- use the tunnel to evade Galbatorix's lackeys.

But would they make it before the helicopter got to them?

A loud vibration started in the air, coming and going at a steady pace, slowly increasing in volume.

_Thwop, Thwop, Thwop._

The chopper was practically running up the back of their vehicles it was so close. A simple twist enabled her to see it was only around 20 metres above the interstate, and around a quarter of a kilometre from them, and it was closing that gap with frightening speed.

Rapidly, the distance crept down; 200, then 150, less than 100 metres until they were doomed, and then blissfully, they cleared into the tunnel and the copter was forced to elevate its flight course. Arya heard it roar by overheard, heading straight for the opposite entrance of the tunnel, and that was when Ajihad initiated the second part of his plan.

He swiftly changed lanes, and swerved into an exit that looped them into Kansas. She followed, trusting his judgement on the matter.

They were twenty minutes from the nearest town when the helicopter caught up with them. She detected Saphira's not so faint curse and Eragon's faint speed up of breath, as he prepared himself for something. What it was she was not sure of.

Arya found out a minute later when he asked Saphira, in a strong voice which she saw through in an instant but decided not to comment on it, "Does this thing have a sunroof or something?"

Saphira nodded and a few seconds later the roof was buzzing as it revealed the sunroof.

A quick blast of Eragon's power blew the glass from its fitting as he stood waist up, above the roof of the car, facing the oncoming copter that was preparing to bring down their small convoy.

He moved both of his hands forward and gripped the helicopter. The effect was instantly visible as the helicopter was stopped in midair as if it had run smack into a brick wall. Eragon wasn't unaffected as well, the strain showing through in his shuddering limbs and his heavy breathing.

Grimacing, Eragon swung his hands and slammed them onto the roof of the car, moving the helicopter with his violent movements.

Like a slow moving whale, the helicopter was flipped, and was upside down, the pilot was unable to do anything, if he moved the rotors, it would just drive them into the ground quicker, and if he left the rotors, the helicopter would immediately free fall to the ground.

They were greeted with the sight of a fireball rising from a small crater in the ground, a miniature smoke cloud marking the machines demise.

Eragon sank back into the car and turned towards Arya and Saphira. His hair was tousled and his shirt even more ripped apart, some may have called him hot, but she wasn't at all like that, she would have used the word handsome instead.

_What the hell are you thinking Arya? If you don't remember you are with Faolin and have been for the past two years!_

Shaking her head, she viewed Eragon slowly collapse into the back seat, where he dozed off. She let him sleep; he definitely deserved it after the gargantuan effort put in by him today.

**Switch POV**

He woke in a bed, which confused him, since he distinctly remembered falling into sleep in a car, not a bed. He sat up, and immediately regretted it, as his arms and legs burned and head throbbed in vain.

The door burst open and none other than Angela stood there, medical kit in hand and a mischievous smile twitching on her lips. Now he was wondering what was going on, since they had not seen Angela since Oklahoma, and they were in Kansas.

"What are you doing here?" he croaked slowly, not able to use his usual deep voice, as Angela began to check him over.

"Ah, this is very good. It seems you have a talent for evading amnesia, and that would be counted as a good thing for some." He didn't even bother to define the meaning of her cryptic sentence since he knew enough about Angela to know that it wouldn't do him any good whatsoever.

"Okay then... How did you find us?"

"Well, that's a little more complicated!" she clucked prudently; "It involves a good cup of tea, some rosemary and a nice hill above an interstate tunnel, but right now you don't need to hear me babble on. You need to speak to Ajihad!" Finishing her examination, she repacked her bag and stood up.

And with that she strode out of the room, humming- 'Will o the wisps' to herself.

Lying stunned for a few minutes, he decided that it would be a good idea to find Ajihad, so, walking ever so slowly down the black maple hallway, past brass tiered doors, and into a plush coffee room, where he found Ajihad, Saphira and Arya drinking coffee, except for Arya, who had a simple water.

Pulling up a seat next to them, they spent the next five minutes with him weathering all of their concerns and well wishings, until he silenced them.

"That's enough; we need to discuss what we're going to do next."

Everyone nodded and looked a little sheepish, save Saphira who didn't feel the least bit of remorse.

Planning took them a surprisingly short amount of time, with it being decided that they would go to the Kansas safe house instead of the Missouri one. But Ajihad had something further to discuss with them.

"Do any of you think that, well..."

"We escaped too easily?" Ajihad turned with surprise too Eragon and nodded.

"Yes, I've had experiences like this before and Galbatorix would have threatened his men with death if they didn't complete their task."

Eragon felt a chill run down his back as he realised Ajihad's meaning. If that chopper was so easily brought down, they wouldn't have contained...

It was a lure, a trap, to bring them a false sense of security, only to catch them by surprise at the moment that they least expected it. The lights flickered, and then completely shut off, plunging the room into total darkness.

"Move!" Arya and Ajihad shouted at the same time. Eragon needed no more motivation, as he scrambled up, and, ignoring the pain in his limbs, sprinted up the stairs and into his room, where a small security light was blinking.

Pulling on his bandolier, he proceeded to unsheathe both of his machetes and advanced into the corridor beyond his room.

Two men with balaclavas ran towards him, but he dispatched them rather messily, dispelling any anger he may have contained, only leaving with cold, hard clarity and precision reflexes.

Making his way back to the coffee room, it only took another five men to discover where the stairs were in the dark. He felt the air part behind his back and he twisted, letting it miss by an inch, before gutting the wielder through his left lung.

The lounge of sorts was chaos, security lights were rhythmically blinking in time with each other, which made it difficult to navigate with his eyes, so he shut them. Letting the air and sounds guide him.

He heard Saphira and Arya, protecting a prone Ajihad, with Blodhgarm protecting their back. Directing his blades into their attackers, he yelled for Blodhgarm to take Ajihad outside.

Two pairs of footsteps, leaving the room was his answer.

Saphira went with them as well, leaving only himself and Arya in the room, surrounded by deceased bodies.

"I'm going after the Razac, I know they're here, so you may as well go with Ajihad."

"No!" Arya exclaimed vehemently. "I'm coming as well, the Razac are only a little bit outmatched by Durza, and there are two of them."

He was silent for a minute, considering the course of options he had at the moment. There were a few, but not enough to present the arguments needed to convince Arya so he agreed.

"Fine, but stay close."

They advanced carefully into the lobby of the small motel they were occupying, and that was when the lights returned. They stopped short. The two hotel owners were sitting at the desk, both of their throats were slit, purplish veins and thick, meaty strings of flesh hanging out of the rough slices.

Arya turned away from the sight and heaved, but Eragon remained cold and emotionless. He had dealt with this type of thing potentially hundreds of times in his career and it wasn't new to him.

A flash of black cloth caught his piercing gaze and he barely blocked the incoming blow from a short sword, but couldn't dodge the swift reverse kick that was sent his way. Not even sparing the time to double over, he rolled, and kicked the legs out from under one of them, as he heard Arya engage the other one.

The Razac was not as skilled as Durza, but was more lithe and flipped around the room a great deal, kicking and striking. Timing his blow carefully, he caught the Razac on the chin, just as it launched backwards for another flip. Said Razac flew backwards, crunching solidly into a wall and remaining motionless, crumpled to the floor.

Satisfied that his attacker was finished, he switched his attention to the battle raging between Arya and the second Razac.

Both were good, he could say that, dodging and flipping all over the place like a pair of jackrabbits. The Razac slowly gained an advantage on Arya, who was tiring, it was clear from the speed of their movements, and the sluggish position Arya was holding herself in.

The final blow came when she was kicked backward, the Razac going in for the kill when it sensed movement from behind and whirled to meet Eragon's closed fist. The Razac stumbled backwards and threw two throwing knives, one of which buried itself in his thigh.

He blasted the Razac backward, pulling up Arya and running to the car, wincing with every stride he made. Stopping at the front door, he grasped the dagger and howled a wordless howl as the blade slid from his leg.

They made their way to the Porsche and climbed in, both too tired to say much, as they slumbered, recovering from their ordeal.

The Varden's Kansas base was much different from Oklahoma, in quite a few aspects. One would be that it had a much smaller area then the previous base he had visited, and it wasn't underground. Two was that it had a rather large airfield.

A group walked over, probably some important officials that Ajihad had to greet but one stood out.

A tall, lithe man with cream coloured hair strode over, boots easily making their way through the rather rocky terrain. Once Arya caught sight of him she did something that he would never expect of her. She ran over to the man, stumbling slightly on a large pebble and flung herself onto him.

Embracing him tightly, she whispered a name that he was sure he wasn't meant to hear, but did anyway; "Faolin."

**Wow, I wrote this in basically one go so I am dead tired right now. Faolin has finally stepped into the picture, so reviews that plan for his death are quite welcome. :P**

**Replying to... Elemental Dragon Slayer: That is probably true lol, and yes sad memories for Eragon, I'll be building on that later... **

**Replying to... jonwright42: True, true! :D**

**Replying to... Vizual-Era: That is rather amusing! I wasn't sure how to portray Angela, so I'm glad you like it!**

**Replying to... leminhman0312: That's nice to hear, and will do!**

**Since it's nearing the end of the holidays, I probably won't be able to update at the same speed at which I have, most likely once a week. Other than that, this is all I have to really say in my A/N so until next time, Adios! **


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